These Foolish Things
by Moriarty87
Summary: Rory was watching the swans when she saw him again for the first time in years. Set pre-, during and post-AYITL.
1. Swans

**Updated Author's note:** This story is not a behind the scenes revival story, although it may come across that way at first. I'm not ASP, so I can only hypothesize what she intended in those four episodes. We all certainly know the outcome. This story is more of an interpretation of the events surrounding our favorite characters throughout the years. As for the technical aspect, this story does not follow the revival timeline exactly, but all the important bits will be covered.

This will be a long story broken into three parts for a total of 32 chapters. I hope you all will join me for the long ride – I do think the end will be worth it.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own an extensive collection of strange hats nor is my name Amy. Oh yeah, and I don't own this show either.

 **Summary:** Rory was watching the swans when she saw him again for the first time in years. Little did she know how her life was about to change. Set pre-, during-, and post AYITL. _ **Contains Revival Spoilers!**_

 **Chapter One: Swans**

Hamburg, Germany - June 3, 2015

There had to be something better than this.

Rory frowned as she tore the bread apart piece by piece, throwing it into the water below. She ignored the annoyed stares of the people nearby as her frantic bread-tearing had attracted more birds, but Rory was beyond she did hold some sadness over the loss of her meal (it was delicious), Rory, having no other way to vent her frustrations, tore the roll out of her mouth and got to work, cursing her misfortune with every tear.

Her fingers paused. Maybe she could have another bite. It was such a shame to waste her lunch over a situation that was momentarily out of her control. Bringing the small piece up to her mouth, she chewed slowly, staring out over the water as she contemplated the sudden turn her career had taken her.

Rory was in town covering the IAPH Hamburg conference. At first, when she was presented with the opportunity for the assignment, she thought it was your standard, run of the mill business conference stuffed with men in ill-fitting suits, while some young hot-shots lectured on innovation and future industry. Oh, how wrong she was. Yes, it was still attended by men in bad suits with the occasional hot-shot lecturer, but this conference was about shipping. Rory knew nothing about boats (except for a small indiscretion she'd rather not remember), and her knowledge of shipping consisted of the chapter on international trade from her economics course. She would have to wing it. This would be an article that was sure to be forced to the end of the business section and maybe read by fifty people. But hey, money was money. And so what if she knew nothing about shipping, ports or engineering for the future? If she could write an article about repaving the parking lot at Chilton, she could do this too!

Except, she couldn't. Well, she could she just didn't want to anymore.

She ducked out of the conference early (there were still two more days of this damned thing) and decided on some retail therapy. But as she walked around the shopping complex staring into the glass storefronts, she realized she couldn't afford to buy any clothes or put any purchases in her already cramped luggage. So she used the last five Euro note she found in her bag, bought a coffee and a roll at the nearby cafe, then walked across the street from the complex and took refuge at the railing along the small lake. She downed her coffee quickly, moving onto her next edible victim. Every tear to the roll vented a frustration, in the end leaving only a small portion before she paused to stare out over the water. Flashes of white caught her eye first. There were swans – dozens of them. Everywhere she looked there was a swan, gliding effortlessly along the surface of the lake. Their graceful movements fascinated her, calming her from her earlier aggression.

Noisy squawks and the sound of ruffling feathers below caught her attention once more, as the small birds waited impatiently for scraps. Rory watched as more birds congregated around her in the water, some still searching fruitlessly for any piece, when she was drawn from her musings by a synth-pop tune. The familiar notes of a Bangles song blared out from her bag. She threw the remaining piece of her roll into the water, before reaching into the depths of her purse, searching for the source of the noise. Her fingers finally grasped the large plastic device and she withdrew her hand, a smile coming to her face as her mother's image covered the screen. "Hey."

"Was ist los Tochter? How's the city of hamburgers? Have you had a Hamburger hamburger yet?" In spite of her bad day, the warmth in her mother's voice improved her mood, if only a little bit.

"No, I haven't mom. By the way, what was that greeting? You've been Googling again, haven't you? I knew the internet could only add to your weirdness," Rory replied with a slight chuckle.

"I'll have you know, daughter of mine, that I just said 'What's up daughter?' and I'm very thankful for Google as it adds to my already well-established coolness," replied Lorelai. "And if you must also know, I've been Googling all about things to do in Hamburg, but then I realized that I had yet to have a phone call from you! So come on, tell mommy what you've been doing when you're not working. Seeing the sights? _Meeting tall, blond, blue-eyed men in bars?_ " Though Lorelai spoke with a teasing tone, Rory knew that her mom was serious. Her mom expected her to have fun on her travels when she wasn't working.

Rory grimaced as she thought back to the previous night. She had run to the corner market next to her hotel, bought more German chocolates and sweets than necessary, and proceeded to watch _The Big Bang Theory_ dubbed in German for four straight hours before falling asleep surrounded by empty , she wasn't going to bring that up. No need for her mother to know how pathetic she could be. "Oh, it's been pretty busy I guess. I've walked around some old buildings in the downtown area and did some window shopping. This conference has occupied the majority of my daytime, though. You know how work is; there really isn't much to tell," she lied, hoping the explanation appeased her mother. "But tell me what's going on at home? How's the Dragonfly?" she asked, effectively changing the subject.

Rory wasn't in the mood to talk about herself or her job, and if Lorelai picked up on it, she did not comment. Lorelai instantly launched into a tale about Michel and the new maids. Apparently, there was some miscommunication about pillow-candy placement and Michel was complaining - well complaining more than usual. Rory was only half-listening to her mom as she rattled on, but the scene below quickly grabbed her attention.

When Rory first arrived at the lake, the swans were in the center, ignoring the crowds and the noises of the small boats surrounding them. In the time she had been on the phone with her mom, a pair of swans glided over near the railing where Rory threw the bread. People around her pointed at them in fascination, in awe of their behavior. The pair fought over the last large piece of roll she had thrown down below, in a tug-of-war reminiscent of _Lady and the Tramp_ , except these swans were neither romantic or friendly. Eventually, one bird gave up and swam away to another corner, looking for any more bread pieces the other birds might have missed.

"...and then Taylor told Kirk, 'I don't care if it's wearing a diaper, this pig is not coming into my market!' Watching Taylor freak out about Kirk's new pet has been glorious Rory, let me tell you. I cannot wait for you to see it personally. So do you think Taylor is right? No pet pigs in the market?" When Rory failed to respond, she added, "Rory? Earth to Rory," said Lorelai. "What has you so distracted babe?"

Lorelai's question knocked Rory out of her swan gazing. "Oh, uh, sorry Mom. I'm just a little out of it," Rory replied apologetically. She went back to look at the swans below. With no bread left, they had eventually given up and swam out towards opposite ends of the lake to join their kind once more. "Mom, what do you think of swans?"

"Uh, enormous white birds," Lorelai said in a confused tone. "I really have no feeling towards them either way. At the Independence, they were always a nice feature when we had our weddings and events. Now, the only large birds I care about are those stupid Canadian Geese. They're mean, loud and poop everywhere. They were a nightmare for the groundskeeper. I hated when they showed up here." Rory silently agreed, remembering how the birds' yearly arrival would annoy the inn staff. "But what do swans have to do with anything?" her mother asked in confusion.

Rory could tell her segue into swans was a bit odd for her mom, even for being a Gilmore girl. She turned away from the railing and stared out onto the street, casually glancing at the people walking by. "Oh, uh nothing. There's just a lot of swans here," she answered with a shrug. She smiled as she looked around and added: "it's summer, it's a beautiful European day, and I'm staring at swans, that's all." Rory paused for a few seconds before continuing, "I was just thinking how beautiful and graceful they are. Their faces are weird, though. They almost look a bit severe. Like they're beautiful on the surface but evil on the inside. I don't know; I was just thinking."

"Right, swans are strange that way," Lorelai replied drolly. "Look, babe, I would love to continue to debate swans with you, but Michel is over here gesturing for my attention. Please go out to a bar tonight and find yourself some hot German! Mommy's orders!"

Rory laughed as she contemplated the strange relationship she had with her mother. "I will try mom. Give my love to Luke for me."

"Bye sweets!"

Rory ended the call and took one last look out at the street with a smile, her brief chat with her mother improving her mood if only temporarily, noting she had to decide what she was going to do about this conference. Holding back a sigh, she made to turn around back to the lake, choosing to let the picturesque view calm her mind as she considered her options. But before she could, a deep voice called out, stopping her movements.

"Rory? Rory Gilmore?" the deep voice called out in question.

Perhaps her daydreaming had addled her mind. The voice was a remnant of her past she had tried to suppress, echoing only in dreams where she was powerless to stop it, the elusive whispers serenading her subconscious. Closing her eyes briefly, she gathered her wits, intent to blame the voice on her boredom, making her hear things she wanted to hear. But did she want to listen to it? She convinced herself long ago that their goodbye was all for the best, that their relationship was a right of passage, opening her mind to new experiences, preparing her for her future.

Rory opened her eyes, taking her first glimpse of Logan Huntzberger in eight years. Except this wasn't Logan Huntzberger, or at least the one she remembered from those years ago. He was older, sure, but while the Logan of her past still had some of those boyish features, present Logan looked more like the smart, successful businessman she knew he'd become. His face was more angular, and his body was leaner. He looked, dare she'd admit it, incredible.

Once Logan met her eyes, he walked closer, meeting her at the railing. He was grinning widely. "Rory Gilmore, as I live and breathe," he began, ending with an incredulous scoff, shaking his head in wonder as his eyes traveled her frame.

She breath caught as she saw his eyes, the familiar brown twinkling back at her. "Well, this seems like an 'of all the gin joints, in all the towns in the world,' moment," she joked, relying on her humor to disperse the awkwardness of the moment.

"She walks into mine," he retorted with a smirk. "Or in this case, a Hamburg promenade."

She bit her lip, glancing down at her shoes. She tried to come up with a reply, all standard introductions failing her. What could she say in this situation?

"I just can't believe it's you. I thought I heard your voice, so I searched around and was startled to see you ten feet away from me. In Hamburg no less!" he exclaimed. "How are you? Are you here working on a story?" he asked, his head cocked in question.

Rory could only stare at him with her mouth slightly sounded so pleased to see her again, watching her with a smile. Such a contrast to their last meeting, where he looked so brokenhearted as he turned away, walking out of her life forever. Or at least, she thought forever. Now he was here, at arm's length in front of her, awaiting her reply. His eyes creased into a slight frown as she remained silent; perhaps he thought her deranged, that she wasn't able to answer a simple query. She blinked and shook her head to clear her thoughts, hoping that he didn't catch her panic. "Oh, you know how it is, being a traveling journalist and all. Here for a conference this week. And what about you?" she added with a smile, feeling her confidence grow as she managed a normal, albeit embellished, reply.

Logan's grin widened. "Oh, I'm here for business. I got sent here for some meeting with another media firm we're hoping to acquire. Just in the preliminary stages, of course. I was in-between meetings for lunch. I came down here to look at the water before making my way over, looking for a brief moment of solitude before the craziness began again. All of a sudden, I recognized your voice mingled with all the others. I thought it couldn't be you, that I was crazy, but I looked around and there you were. I realized I couldn't leave without saying hello." She found the look he gave her disconcerting; he was looking at her the way he used to back in the early days when they were just friends at Yale.

"Oh, um, hello," she squeaked out, cursing herself for the childish response. Rory wanted to ask Logan how he'd been and what else he'd been up to – simple pleasantries that avoided any mention of tough topics – but the look in his eyes gave her pause. A vibration and a beep broke his stare first and he glanced down quickly, checking the screen of the phone in his hand. "Somewhere to be?" she asked, biting her lip as he shot her another look, his expression unreadable.

The phone in Logan's hand gave another beep. He sighed as he glanced at it again, pushing a few buttons on the screen. Sliding the device into his pocket, he returned to her gaze, giving a small smile. "Listen, I'd love to stay and chat with you, but I have to get to this meeting. I really do want to talk to you and catch up, though. Would it be possible for us to have dinner tonight?" He waited for her nod before continuing, "great! Is 7:30 good? I can pick you up from your hotel. Where are you staying?" He gave another grin at Rory's answer. "Fantastic. I'm going to give you my card in case I'm not there exactly at 7:30. It has my mobile number on it so you can call me. Sorry, I don't have time to get your number right now, as I must be going." He took out his wallet, handing her the off-white cardstock, their hands briefly touching for the first time in eight years. "I'll see you tonight," he added, a slight question in his voice as if he wondered if she would keep her word and appear.

As she took his card, Rory couldn't help but smile back at him. "Yeah, me too Logan. See you tonight."

With one last grin, he turned around and strode across the street. Rory stared at him and giggled to herself about the direction the day had gone. She knew she'd have to get back to her hotel and work on her article so she could be free from worry tonight. Even if the dinner turned out horrible, it beat trying to decipher the German dubs of American comedies. She glanced down at the card in her hands, this subtle reminder of the successful man Logan turned into, a far cry from his days at the pub at Yale. But as she looked closer at the card, something caught her eye.

Why was Logan working for his father again?

* * *

Despite her good intentions, Rory did not make much headway on her article. She was too jittery to concentrate, her nerves unraveling as she considered what was in store. Here she was about to have dinner with the man from her most serious relationship, the one where she turned down his proposal, and he was happy to see her. She thought it would be uncomfortable the first time she ran into Logan. She had terrors of seeing him in the coffee shop they used to visit in New York or catching his eye at one of her grandparents' parties. They would exchange brief pleasantries, or perhaps even angry words and move on with a tense goodbye. Except this exchange was pleasant. What surprised her was how easy it was to talk to him, even for how short the exchange was. It hadn't felt like eight years at all. She never dreamed she would run into him in Germany of all places. Nothing prepared her for seeing him again after daydreaming about swans by a lake, though.

At 7:15 she decided to head down to the lobby, knowing she couldn't stare at the walls in her room any longer. She was still wearing her dress from earlier. At first, she wore this dress because she considered it her lucky outfit; good things happened when she wore it. The conference had been so dull this week that on a whim this morning she put it on, hoping for more excitement at the conference, perhaps catching an interview with a top executive. When she left the event in a huff, she thought the outfit had finally lost its magic, proving that superstitions were never correct. Her run in with Logan was undoubtedly unexpected; the jury was still out whether it was good, however. But she would find out soon.

At 7:30 Logan walked in through the sliding doors, and she was once again struck at his countenance. He looked as elegant and mature as this afternoon, but his face was more relaxed. The meeting probably stressed him out, especially if he was debating a possible acquisition. She knew from her brief history covering business that not everyone was calm and collected during those meetings. Catching her eye, he made his way over to her with another one of his show-stopping grins. Rory couldn't help but smile back, even if her stomach was doing somersaults.

"Hi, Logan," Rory greeted.

"Evening, Rory. I'm glad to see you're here," he greeted in return. "I was a bit worried after our talk today. We spoke so briefly, I never asked if you thought this was a good idea. I just dropped it on you before rushing off." He frowned and added, "you still want to come right?" Even though he looked hopeful, she could see the doubt in his eyes. He always had very expressive eyes.

"No, I wanted to come, honestly. I'm sorry if it didn't seem that way earlier. I think I was just so shocked at seeing you again that it hadn't fully hit me that it was you standing in front of me." Rory still felt as if she was trying to convince herself that this dinner was a good thing; she just hoped Logan didn't pick up on it.

"I get that feeling. I was shocked, too. Well still, I'm glad you came. Listen, a colleague of mine told me about a restaurant we can go to. You up for Italian?" Rory nodded. "Okay, let's go."

Logan led her out of the hotel and took her to a car waiting outside. After following her inside the car, he told the driver the name of the restaurant. As the car started moving, Logan turned back to Rory and said, "I know I didn't mention it earlier, but you look great. Time's been good to you. Love the dress by the way."

It was incredible to Rory that after all these years a simple comment could make her insides feel like jelly. "Well, thank you very much." After a pause, Rory continued, "you know, you look great yourself. You certainly look very smart. I must say, I like this choice of suit better than the ones you wore in college. You're a regular GQ now!"

Was it just her or did he just blush? "Heh, well, you can thank Honor for that. She would take me shopping years ago, and I guess her influence stayed with me. I suppose I'd make her proud."

They finished the short trip to the restaurant in companionable silence. After arriving, Logan helped Rory out of the car and followed her inside. Instead for the proffered hand when entering and exiting the car, he hadn't touched her. It was making her nervous. After they had started dating, Logan was always touching her in some way, whether it was on the small of her back or holding her hand or arm. After all this time, she thought it wouldn't be something she would notice, but now that he stopped it seemed unnatural. Once inside, they were led to a table, and he held out the chair for her. He was still a gentleman. Emily and Shira would be proud.

Their first few minutes were spent in relative silence. They focused on the menu and decided what to order, asking each other for suggestions. It was awkward, far more awkward than the time Rory met him in the pub to discuss the article. It was a relief to her when the waiter came back to take their orders. After the man left and returned with their wine, they spent a few moments just glancing at the table.

Rory was the first to break. "This is weird, right? This is weird. It shouldn't feel weird," rambled Rory.

Logan looked up at her and replied, "yeah, it's weird." His serious look turned playful, and he added, "but I'm determined for it not to be weird. It just takes some time for us to get back into talking to each other."

Rory nodded with a smile. "Yeah, I guess. If Finn were here, he'd find a way to break the ice."

"Finn was always good that way."

"Where's Finn when you need him? Actually, how is dear old Finn? And Colin? Are you guys still hanging out?"

As it turned out, Finn did help break the ice. Rory learned that he still kept in close contact with them ("they've grown up, but we still get together to have fun") and Rory told him all about Paris ("so she's turned to terrorizing couples instead of peers"). Logan became a proud uncle several years ago to a boy and last year, a girl ("I don't know how Honor does it, but the kids are great"). They shared details about their parents and the general things they'd done in the past years. It was sweet and familiar. The waiter brought their food and they tucked in, still managing to talk in between bites.

"So, Rory, I've read your writing. You've improved even more since Yale if that was even possible. Hugo always spoke proudly of you. I just have to know, though - what was Obama like?"

"Well, he was pretty much what you see on TV, but better. He was just cool. He's funnier in real life. I think he tries to hide a lot of it so that it won't become even more fodder for Fox, but yeah, he's awesome. Although Michelle is amazing as well. I admire her so much. There was this one time," she said, pausing as his words caught up with her. "Wait." Rory gave him a questioning look. "You said you read my work. And you talked to Hugo about me?"

"Well, I am in the news business, and Hugo is a friend. I was bound to see your name in print sometime. I'm glad you got to go out and experience all that. You really did what you wanted to do. You followed your dreams. It's fantastic."

Rory had many cheerleaders in her life, but Logan's praise always made her blush more than anything. Even though she didn't even care about his family circumstances, there was a small part of her that was proud that _The Logan Huntzberger_ found her work exceptional. It made her feel twenty again. "Thanks, Logan," she replied with a soft smile. He smiled back.

There was a minute of silence between the two, with only the clanking of silverware on the plates and the occasional sip from the wine glass adding noise to their table. Rory thought back to their earlier conversations and realized there was still one thing they hadn't talked about yet.

"Logan." Rory put down her silverware and looked at him. He was still focusing on his plate. "Why are you back working with your father again?"

He gave no clear indication that he was surprised by her question, but she knew his tells and knew that he was. His forehead tensed and he had a slight purse to his lips. Logan set down his utensils and finished chewing. As he looked at her, his face turned contemplative. "Well, it's complicated and hard to explain." Rory was about to tell him it wasn't a big deal, that she did not need to know, but he continued before she could talk. "No, it's okay, I can explain. There are several reasons." Logan became solemn at that point.

"As I'm sure you remember, the recession really hit everyone hard, even in Silicon Valley. The company I was with was doing well, but it was going through talks of a merger about three years after I joined them. I wasn't sure of where I would end up in the company after it happened, but I knew I had done well and made a name for myself. Everything changed when my father had a heart attack. He ended up needing surgery. He never took the doctors seriously enough when they told him to slow down and watch his blood pressure.

"I flew home immediately. Even though we never got along, he was still my dad, you know? Honor was distraught. Mom was sleeping off a hangover when she wasn't smoking. I seemed to be the only one handling it okay. Looking back, I was more of a robot more than anything. I took care of the affairs. It was a difficult time.

"After he got out of surgery and gained his strength back, we had a long talk. He told me he was proud of me. He had been watching my work out west and some of his business friends had boasted about my progress. He knew he would have to ease back into the company, but he asked if I would consider coming back. He felt he didn't need to watch me anymore. I said I would consider it, and I did. I talked to my employer and found out that it wouldn't be that great if I were to stay with them. So I went to my dad and gave him some ground rules. He would let me choose where I wanted to work and he wouldn't treat me like a child anymore. I had certainly proved that I was enough. He agreed. Anyway, we worked out a deal and I ended up in London. I remembered how much I loved parts of London and even more, it was far away from him. I had nothing keeping me in the States, so it seemed like a good idea for a fresh start. I can't say I regret it all. It's helped my relationship with my parents some. Plus, I get a lot of time off to visit my niece and nephew."

"You live in London now?" Rory frowned. She did find this surprising.

"After all that, you only took out London," Logan replied with a smile.

"Well, no. I am sorry about your father. It makes sense why you went back. I'm just surprised. I thought you didn't like London."

"I didn't like being forced to go to London; there's a difference. I have some excellent memories of London," he said while glancing into her eyes. He was serious. Rory had good memories of London too, especially of that Christmas they spent together.

Faced with this new information and his subtle admission, Rory grew quiet, not furthering any conversation. Their meal over, Logan paid the bill and they left the restaurant. As they began to walk on the city streets, he turned to her and said, "you know it's only nine. My hotel is only two blocks away, and it has a bar. There's still so much I want to talk about. What do you say? Want to continue this at the bar? It's okay if you don't, though."

"Lead the way, Huntzberger."

* * *

"And then Colin said, 'I don't care if you find it freeing Finn, you won't get me in a kilt without something underneath. I don't care if it's tradition.' Finn just said, 'your loss, mate.' then proceeded to twirl around showing everyone what _was_ going on underneath. Colin turned even redder. I thought he was going to blow a fuse." Rory laughed harder as Logan finished his story.

They had spent the last hour and a half at the bar, first reminiscing about college, but soon it led to his adventures with Colin and Finn. In a way, Rory was sad she wasn't around to experience it, but she was happy to hear they were still having fun all the same.

Their laughter died and they wound up staring at each other across the table. Logan broke it off first, deciding to focus on the glass in his hand.

"Logan?"

He looked up at her with a frown. "Yeah, Rory?"

"I just," she trailed off, wondering how to begin. "I haven't said it yet, but I'm glad you're doing well. I'm glad you're happy."

One side of Logan's mouth lifted in a wry smile. He took a sip from his scotch before replying, once again looking serious. "I guess I am. It isn't where I saw myself eight years ago, but I'm proud of how I ended up," he shrugged. His eyes fell back to his drink. "Well, mostly. There are some things I wish turned out differently," he muttered, lifting the glass to take a sip.

Rory knew he was partly talking about their breakup. It was the giant elephant in the room, but still, Rory didn't have enough courage to address it. Rory covered the hand that wasn't holding his scotch with her own and squeezed. He first looked at their joined hands, then slowly looked up into her eyes. Rory held his gaze and softly said, "I'm proud of you too, you know. I always knew you'd be great."

He gave a small smile and squeezed her hand back. "Thanks, Rory."

There was another minute where nothing was said between the two. Logan sat up straight, looked her in the eyes and said, "well, I think I've taken up enough of your time tonight." He sighed heavily, taking a final sip of his drink. "It's time for me to take you back to your hotel now. I'm glad we had a chance to do this."

"Me too." With a start, Rory realized she didn't want the night to end. She didn't want to say goodbye to him yet. She had forgotten how much she missed him all these years and just how easy it was to talk and exist with him again.

Sliding off the barstool, Logan joined Rory at her side, holding up his hand to help Rory out of her own. Whether it was the alcohol, the nerves, or the heels (or possibly all three), Rory stumbled into his arms, Logan reaching out to quickly catch her fall. Their eyes met, his eyes searching hers in question, his touch burning her skin as his hands gripped her midsection. His touch felt so familiar and yet unknown. Instinctively, she raised herself up and met his lips briefly, leaning slightly into his body. The kiss was ghostlike, just a whisper of a touch, yet it shocked her, pulling her out of her lust. Rory drew back suddenly, her eyes wide in panic. Realizing what she had done, she gathered her bag and hurried out of the bar.

Rory heard him calling her name behind her, but she kept walking. She couldn't believe she had been so stupid. She did not intend for this night to be a repeat of their past. She exited the hotel bar into the hallway but stopped as she faced the wall, realizing she didn't remember the way she came into the hotel, as her attention was focused solely on him.

Her pause allowed Logan to catch up with her. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. "Rory," he said gently.

Rory cut him off before he could start talking.

"Logan, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to just attack you like that. It was a reflex, you know! I know that's probably the last thing you want from me, and I'm sorry it happened. Wait! I'm not sorry, it's not like it's bad. I didn't want to imply it was bad. Oh god, I'm messing this up," she rambled, her thoughts scattered and nerves jumpy as she tried to explain her actions.

Logan, seemingly having heard enough of her rambling, leaned down and gently kissed her. At first, Rory froze in shock, but soon she relaxed under him, kissing him back with fervor. His arms gently settled around her waist while hers went to his shoulders, slowly curling around his neck as their kiss deepened. Logan drew away, moving his face inches from hers, his breath fanning against her cheek. She felt his stubble graze across her skin as his mouth formed a grin. "Have I mentioned how glad I was to see you today?" he teased, his voice low and husky in her ear. Rory could only grin back.

"You may have mentioned it, yes," Rory replied and leaned back into his embrace, catching his lips with an urgency she had long since repressed. Feeling braver than she had in a long time, it was her that broke away this time. Moving one hand against his cheek, she angled his head down, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"Logan," she murmured.

"Yeah, Rory?"

"I don't want to go back to my hotel."

Logan searched her eyes. She had no doubts. "You're sure?"

"Yeah," she answered with a smile.

His eyes told her all she needed to know.

* * *

Rory's eyes fluttered open, the bright light of the morning sun filtering through the curtains. She would never get used to the early summer mornings at this latitude. She stretched under the covers, her hand moving to find empty sheets at her side. A muffled buzz told her the shower was running. Logan must have let her sleep in while he readied himself for work. Lifting her head off the pillow, she looked to the side table, finding the clock. The red numbers glowed six am - earlier than she thought. She felt well-rested, despite the late night the two of them shared.

She rolled over on her back, staring at the ceiling as her thoughts returned to the previous night. They had rushed up to his room, sneaking shy smiles at each other in the crowded elevator. But once his room door closed, they both became nervous. He turned to her slowly, reaching for her. She melted into his embrace, her hands gliding over the planes of his chest, before moving up to cradle his head. He pulled her away after a moment, catching her eyes while breathing hard.

"Rory, do you really want to do this?"

Rory studied his expression, seeing the hope and fear of her answer. Was she crazy to do this with him? It was just one night. She had felt lonely and bored before running into him today. But now she felt alive, energized by his touch, comforted by his gaze. She didn't want the feeling to end when she knew she could feel so much more. "Yes," she stated assuredly, reaching up to bring his lips to hers once more.

He relaxed in her arms and took control, backing her further into the room as they shed each other's clothes haphazardly on the floor. He lowered her to the bed with a gentleness that scared her, his eyes telling her an emotion she couldn't read. She pulled him down to cover her body with his, wrapping her arms tightly as if he were an apparition that would disappear if she wasn't careful. He mapped her body first with his hands and then with his lips, bringing her to a peak she'd forgotten was reachable. With unknown strength, she brought his mouth back to hers, tongues dueling in the dark as they reacquainted their bodies. Spent, they finally fell asleep some time later, her body curled around him, his arms keeping her close to his chest.

The muffled buzz ended and a small boom echoed, the sound of the shower door opening and closing. Rory rolled to her side, watching the entrance to the bathroom, waiting for his figure to emerge. After several minutes, Logan left the bathroom with a towel around his waist, water dripping from his hair. Rory gulped at the image. Her fingers traced the ridges of his body during the night, but they seemed more substantial when faced in the light. Logan was always an attractive man and physically fit, but now, he was more so. He could give models a run for their money.

He smiled at Rory as he caught her eye. "Oh good, you're up. I ordered breakfast for us. All your favorites. Sorry, I didn't wake you, but you know, duty calls and I had to get up. Plus, you looked so peaceful." He came over and kissed her cheek, brushing his hands through her hair.

"You okay?"

She gave him a small smile. "Sure, just thinking about work and stuff. I'm going to get dressed."

He looked at her for a moment, then stroked the side of her head with his palm. He smiled and leaned down to give her another brief kiss. "Okay. I'm almost done in the bathroom so it will be all yours." With a squeeze of her hand, he left her side, grabbing his clothes near his bad and closing the bathroom door.

Rory slid out of bed, reaching down to grab her underwear and dress off the floor. The fabric was wrinkly and badly creased, but it would have to do until she could get back to her hotel. At least she had her jacket to hide most of it, mitigating the obvious signs of a night spent in the arms of another. She flattened the fabric over the side of the bed, thinking perhaps a quick spray of water would help. She smiled as she took in the color. Perhaps she was wrong yesterday at the lake. This was her lucky dress.

The room service arrived quickly, filling the room with delectable scents as the finished preparing for the day. They sat at the room-provided table, tucking into their meal of eggs and toast. For several minutes only sounds of utensils and their chewing occupied the room. It gave Rory the opportunity to think, to ponder how they would talk about the events of the previous night.

"Look, I haven't been entirely truthful with you Logan," Rory began with a sigh, placing her fork back on the plate. "I'm not exactly single. I am seeing someone back in New York," she added quickly. Even though his attention was directed at his plate, she tried to observe his face for a reaction. She detected nothing.

"Is it serious?" he asked not meeting her eyes, as he continued to cut his food.

"No," she answered. "It just is." It was partly true. The man in New York was a little more than a casual friend with benefits, though she got the feeling he wished it were more. However, she didn't care to share this info with Logan.

Logan looked up from his plate, chewing his lip. "Well, that makes two of us. I'm seeing someone too." His face was still unreadable. When did she get so bad at reading him?

It was her turn to ask. "Is it serious?" He let out an even bigger sigh and stabbed at his eggs, turning them around on the plate.

"She's a friend of the family. We get along well enough," he shrugged. His forehead creased in a frown, he added, "we met at a banquet through our parents. It helped to pass the time to talk to her. After a while, it became natural always to take her. We saved ourselves from boredom. She lives in Paris, so we don't see each other often, just when there's a party or she's in town for work. Our parents approve, though. We've become the parent-pleasers," he said with a wry smile.

Great, now Rory felt worse as she heard him describe the woman back home. It was one thing for Rory, getting so caught up in the past that she forgot where she was. But now, she dragged him into her mess as well, his woman in Paris an unknowing victim in Rory's game.

"Logan, what are we doing here?" she asked with a small voice, her mind whirring as she faced the ugly truth behind their meeting.

"I'm eating eggs. You were eating toast."

"No, I mean this. What does it mean Logan? What are we doing here?"

Logan set down his fork and clasped both hands under his chin. "I think it means there's still something there. I'm not lying when I said I've missed you. We had something good for a long time. And I enjoyed seeing you last night. I had fun. I honestly can't remember when I had this much fun," he ended with a grin, his eyes bright.

Rory looked away quickly. "And I would like to see you again and give this another shot. If you'd agree," he suggested, his eyes holding a hint of hope when she turned to him in disbelief.

Her breath caught at his proposal. Maybe he did take this encounter more seriously than she thought. Perhaps he wasn't as involved with the other woman, her heart unknowingly feeling a bit lighter.

"We can't." She shook her head, the realities of their situations hitting her in force. "I'm in New York when I'm not traveling and you're in London."

"And that stopped us? We've done it before," he reasoned. "I think we managed pretty well back when you were a senior."

"And we were miserable because we didn't get to see each other enough. I don't think that's fair, either," Rory countered if only to diminish her own hope.

But she wasn't prepared to say goodbye to him just yet. They could find a way to make this work to their benefit. It would be incredibly selfish of her, surely, but she wanted him. Despite her conscious telling her no, she still longed for his friendship, ached for his touch, wanted to hear his voice. She took a deep breath, readying herself for her speech.

"No, I think we can make this work if we want it to. We can see each other when we see each other. This way, we can go about our daily lives like nothing has changed," she proposed, her faith in the idea growing as she spoke. "And we won't be as miserable as we were back then," she added, thinking back to the hard nights when they lived thousands of miles apart, never quite able to establish a decent contact schedule. How she laid awake at night, wondering if he was content with their situation.

Logan studied her for a moment, considering her words before he replied, "so, you want to go back to a no-strings arrangement?" His brows lifted in slight alarm at her nod. "I'm surprised, Rory. I don't remember you being a fan of the no-strings thing. And what about the people we're dating? Are you going to keep seeing your guy? Do you want me to break it off with her?"

Rory was slightly bewildered at his reaction. Logan was the king of no-strings agreements before she met him. Wouldn't he understand the purpose? It was just sex (albeit terrific sex), and it was all life afforded them at the moment. It would have to do if they wanted to stay in each other's lives. She knew from experience that they couldn't be just friends, just friends with slightly more benefits than most. She no longer had serious flings; it wasn't in her nature. No hurt on her end and from his earlier statement, none on his either.

"It's not a no-strings, not exactly. We'll always have strings; it's us. We do things differently. It's just the way we are," she rationalized. "It will be more like 'when we're together we're together; when we're not, we're not.' We'll get together when we can. Therefore, we can still have that other part of our lives when we have to part again. We'll stay with our people back home. This way we can never be truly miserable and lonely. I've been to those parties; frankly, you need all the help you can get."

Logan didn't look too convinced. "No-strings is easier to say than that whole phrase."

"Listen, it's like Vegas. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. What happens in Hamburg, stays in Hamburg." Rory was starting to like her plan more. Yes, they could make this work.

Logan raised his eyebrows. "A Vegas agreement, huh? Well, if you're sure."

Rory was confident. "I am positive. In fact, I travel to London quite a bit. We could see each other there."

"You do? Well, ain't that something," he quipped flatly, ending the subject.

The two eventually finished their meal, making small talk throughout the rest of the morning. But they didn't mention their new Vegas agreement again. She gathered her things and made herself acceptable to the public, while she watched him from the corner of her eye as he finished gathering his things ready for work. They made their way to the lobby together; Logan was to go back to some meeting and Rory back to her hotel. She needed to change her attire before heading back to the conference. They stopped awkwardly outside the doors of the hotel and turned to each other. Neither knew exactly how to say goodbye.

Logan spoke first, breaking the tension. "You'll call me, right? You have my number?" At Rory's nod he continued, "then please call or text me. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. Even if you just want to gossip okay?" Logan stared at her again with a look in his eyes Rory couldn't decipher. "You need a car to take you back?"

"No, I think I'll walk first. Thanks, though." She kissed his cheek. "We'll talk soon, I promise."

He smiled at her, squeezed her shoulder, then left to leave. After five steps, his body paused before turning back to her with a grin. "It was good to see you again, Ace. Until next time," he called out, then continued his way down the sidewalk. Rory couldn't help the ridiculous smile that was on her face. Oh yes, this arrangement was going to work just fine.

Rory left his hotel, ambling back to the lake. It wasn't too far of a walk. She stood again at the railing, feeling the cool breeze tease her hair, shading her eyes as the morning sun glittered off the water's surface. There were swans out again today. She liked swans. The swans led her back to Logan.

 **AN:** For those of you who would like to see the location of where Rory meets Logan, there is a post on my Tumblr (see profile for address) detailing the history of the Binnenalster and the swans. It's quite interesting and plays a unique role in this story. It is also a beautiful place, so it's worth checking out if you're ever in the area.

On my Tumblr, I will post updates and any extra notes that I care to put with the chapters. Everything is tagged for easy navigation. I do explain some decisions I make regarding this story, so if you're interested, check it out.

If you've gotten this far, thanks for sticking with it. I'm not a fan of the first chapter - I do think this story gets better in the later chapters. Do you think it stinks? That's cool too! Please let me know in a review! Always better for me to know the honest truth than to keep writing! Thank you!

 _This is an updated version of the chapter that was first posted on December 5, 2016_


	2. Yachts

**AN** Thank you for your comments, follows and favorites.

 **Disclaimer:** I didn't write _Teen Mom: The Later, More Responsible Years_ that aired on the WB from 2000-2007.

 **Chapter 2: Yachts**

Stars Hollow, Connecticut - July 3, 2015

Rory exhaled as she finally pulled to park near Luke's Diner, relaxing a moment against the car seat. As it was Friday and the day before the fourth, the traffic leaving the city was terrible. What frequently was a two-hour trip suddenly took her three and a half hours. She couldn't wait to unwind once she got to Lane's house. Gathering her strength, she exited the car and made her way to the diner's door, happy to see her father-figure once again. The hustle of the lunchtime rush was a welcome sight for Rory, as she hadn't been back home in a while.

A few quiet hellos were said her way as she walked through the threshold. Rory gave a small wave and smiled to all as she walked up to the counter. Luke, busily writing on his notepad, didn't look up as she approached. "Hey, Luke! How's it going?" Rory greeted, leaning against the bar.

"Rory!"

Luke, quickly overcoming his surprise, dropped the notebook and pen, walking around the counter to give her a hug. Despite not being technically family, Rory still felt as if they were all the same. The familiar warmth of his embrace was always pleasant. "I'm glad you made it up here safely," he said as he pulled back. "I know the traffic is terrible out of the city right before the holiday."

"Eh, it wasn't that bad this morning," she replied and smiled to herself at the concern in his voice. "Listen, did you make those burgers I called about? It's fine if they aren't ready yet."

"I set aside the cheeseburgers about ten minutes ago." He turned around and went behind the counter to grab the two paper bags to give to Rory. "Guess I had a feeling you'd be here soon," he added as he handed them over.

"Thanks, Luke. You're the best. Lane says thanks too." Luke just shrugged his shoulders.

"It's no problem at all; you know that. Listen, your Mom wanted me to tell you that something is happening at the Inn tonight, so if you wanted to head on over to your grandparents' house, she'd meet you there later. Soften the blow for her so-to-speak. They'll be happy to see you so they won't be as angry that she's late. She can't really get out of leaving early, but you know how your grandmother is about all this."

"That's fine." Rory gave him a final hug and turned to leave the diner. As she was walking out, she called, "thanks again! See you tonight!" Luke gave her a wave and turned his attention back to his customers.

Rory returned to her car, driving it the short distance to Lane's. Rory was excited about their reunion, as Rory and Lane didn't get to hang out as often as they'd like to anymore. Every visit was scheduled far in advance, setting aside time on their calendars. Lane worked full-time and raised her twins, while Rory was in Brooklyn - when she wasn't globetrotting, of course. Unfortunately, Rory hadn't been able to make it back to Stars Hollow since April. It was a long, overdue visit.

Lane was already opening the door when Rory was walking up the sidewalk. "Oh good, you're here," Lane said, slightly out of breath. "I'm starving. Hurry up inside."

"Wow, I'm sorry Lane." They stopped to give each other a quick hug before Lane led Rory into the dining area. "It's only 12:30. I didn't think you'd be that hungry," she added with a frown.

"Oh no, it's not your fault. It's _them_ ," Lane replied with a slightly demonic look in her eye.

Rory was confused. "Lane who are you talking about? The band?"

"No, no, no, no, no." Lane was shaking her head at this. "It's the hellions that happen to be my sons. I managed to get them over to their friend's house for the afternoon to play, so we'll be undisturbed. One boy is crazy enough. But two twin boys? They're everywhere. Eight-year-olds have so much energy. They always want to play," Lane explained, taking the burgers out of the bag and placing them on plates. "I feel like I constantly have to eat just to have the energy to keep up with them and keep the house clean. Thank god we're halfway through summer break now. They can spend all that energy at school," she ended, sitting down with a relaxing. Grabbing her burger, she took a bite. "Oh, that's good," she muttered, her eyes closed.

Rory didn't know exactly how to respond. Her experience with children was minimal. She could count on her two hands the number of times she had to babysit alone. "Lane, I know I don't have experience with all this, but I mean, you wouldn't want to change anything right? You love your boys, even Zach. I mean it, Zach is pretty awesome to you guys."

"No, of course not!" Lane exclaimed, her eyes wide at Rory's assumption. "That's not what I meant at all."

Rory focused on her burger. "Oh, I just thought -"

"It's okay," Lane interrupted. "I didn't mean to unload on you, or to sound like I was complaining," she answered with a slight amount of shame. She grabbed a fry, her face turning thoughtful as she chewed. She swallowed and added, "I am happy. Zach _is_ wonderful, and so are the boys. Some days it's just a little, well, overwhelming," she explained. Lane shrugged, before turning to Rory with a smile. "Remember, I was the one who was supposed to go out and join the musical world, playing in clubs all night long."

"Rocking out and chasing your dreams," Rory interjected.

"Right," Lane smiled. "But then I met Zach. I realized I could have the rocker boyfriend and the rocker lifestyle. And my mother went along with it, surprising us all," she added, the two girls giggling as they remembered Mrs. Kim's take over of the band.

"The point is Rory – it's not what I'd thought I'd be doing ten years ago, but I wouldn't change it for the world. You'll see once you become a mom and a wife," she said and turned back to her food.

Rory picked at her fries and replied softly, "well, I don't know about that."

"Oh, Rory." Lane's brow creased in concern, and she reached out for Rory's hand. "You'll find that someday, I promise. I know you date a lot, but you'll find someone. You will get that special guy, I guarantee it. You will have your perfect Stars Hollow wedding like we dreamed as kids," Lane said grinning, her eyes bright in belief.

"Thanks," Rory mumbled with a soft smile, before returning to her meal.

Rory didn't have the heart to tell Lane that her dreams had changed since then. She didn't know if she ever wanted to get married or have kids. Yes, she was a typical girlfriend girl, but lately, she had just been a companionship girl, seeking out simple friends with benefits arrangements. There hadn't been anyone in years she contemplated a serious relationship with, not in years. Her phone chirped from her bag and she reached in, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw the sender's name. The universe, it seemed, wanted to remind her.

 _Day 1: Trump is bewildered to learn that screaming "You're Fired!" at Secret Service agents won't make them leave him alone._

Rory guffawed lightly and quirked her lips as she typed out a reply. Ever since Donald Trump announced his plan to run for president a couple of weeks ago, she and Logan had been exchanging texts about Trump's possible first days a president. Logan had actually met Trump several times before, so he didn't have any difficulty imagining his ego manifesting in the Oval Office.

Lane looked over at her and said with a grin, "I know that smile. Pete must be texting you lovey-dovey texts."

Rory grimaced. "Uh, it's Paul, not Pete. And that wasn't Paul texting me." Lane raised her eyebrows but said nothing. "And please, it's really not that serious."

"Whatever you say."

Rory bit her lip, wondering if it was wise to tell Lane. She figured it was time to tell someone. She'd been holding in this secret so long, knowing how it would seem to her friends. At least Lane wouldn't judge her too terribly. Her mom was out of the question and Paris? Rory was still scared of Paris.

"Lane? We're friends."

Lane stared at her strangely. "We are," she said slowly, confusion laced in her voice.

"Yes, well," Rory began, her voice shaky as her nerves threatened her confidence. "Right. And since we're friends, I have to tell you something. It's a big deal. Or not a big deal. I don't know. It just happened, and I need to tell someone about it," Rory rattled off, staring at her plate.

Lane straightened in her seat, looking at Rory in concern. "Sure. You know you can tell me anything."

"I ran into Logan a month ago in Hamburg. We had dinner and then we spent the night together. We went our separate ways the next morning since he had to fly home that afternoon and I still had to cover the conference, but we exchanged info. Now we text and talk to each other on the phone. We plan to meet up later." With that final sentence, Rory looked down and took another bite of her burger. Lane was speechless. Rory took a few moments to swallow and said, "say something. Please. Anything."

Lane stared at Rory in shock. "Um, wow."

Rory blanched, horrified. "That's it?" she exclaimed, hoping that her friend could at least offer some advice.

Lane shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Right," she started to say, her mouth opening and closing in disbelief. "Well, was it good?" she managed to ask.

" _Lane!_ "

"Well, I don't really know what you want me to say here, Rory! You've been keeping it secret for a month. You looked happier at that one text than I've seen for a long time. And now I know why. But, it's Logan."

"We like Logan," Rory interjected, trying to find common ground.

"It's Logan," Lane countered flatly, her eyes serious. "The guy whose proposal you turned down but are still flirting with over the phone. Logan, the guy who left you broken hearted when you went on the campaign trail. So what, are you seeing him now?"

"Um, no. Not exactly," Rory muttered while tearing the paper napkin in her lap. She shook her head, throwing the remaining pieces of paper on the table. She had to stop tearing things when she was in a mood. "He lives in London. I live in Brooklyn when I'm not traveling. We're both busy and have complicated lives. We're just going to see each other when we see each other. Have fun again."

"So you're doing the whole casual relationship thing again? What about Paul?"

"Paul and I are not serious. I just see him when I have time," Rory answered in defense. In the back of her mind, she knew she would have to break it off with him, but now their dates were so infrequent she didn't feel the need.

Lane stared at her with brows raised, waiting for her to continue.

"And Logan and I are just casual. We're just doing the no-strings thing. It works out perfectly for us. He has a girl that he sees in London, but she lives in Paris. Some friend of the family that goes with him to functions. We won't have to be lonely and miserable like before," she finished definitely. Now that Rory had it out in the open, the more convinced she was that this arrangement would work.

However, Lane didn't look too confident. "Well, if you're sure this is what you want. I hope you know what you're getting into again. I remember the 'Founder's Day Punch Incident of 2005', even if you don't."

Rory sighed, leaning back into her chair. "Look, Lane. I know what I'm doing, I promise. I can't start a serious relationship again with him. I'm not at a stable point in my life. I can't handle us flitting in and out of each other's lives like back when he lived in London. It was too hard, and I was always almost in tears when he had to hang up the phone. But, I missed him, you know? We were together three years. He was more than my serious boyfriend; he was my best friend. There were things I could tell him that I couldn't tell you, Paris or my mom. And, well, maybe it's selfish. I want that again. Being with him in Hamburg reminded me of how good it used to be. For right now, at this point in my life, it's good enough for me."

Lane studied Rory for a few moments. Eventually, she nodded her head and went back to fries. After a minute she looked up and murmured, "well, I'll support you with whatever you plan to do. Just be careful all right?"

Rory whispered thanks in reply.

* * *

 _Just arrived at my grandparents' house for dinner. Mom isn't here yet. I love them, but I feel they fawn over me a little too much._

Rory stepped back from the doorbell, quickly typing a text as she waited to be greeted. The door opened and she hit send, lifting her head to meet the eyes of the maid. The new maid, a redhead this time, welcomed her inside, and Rory stepped over the threshold.

"Oh Richard, Rory's here!" her grandmother's voice echoed from inside the house. It wasn't long until her grandparents joined her in the foyer, Emily welcoming Rory into her arms.

"Oh Rory, how good it is to see you again. You look beautiful, as always." Emily was beaming as she stepped aside for her husband.

"Rory, it's been too long. We don't get together often enough," Richard greeted as he drew his granddaughter in for a hug. "Your emails are just not the same as seeing you in person," he added, taking Rory's arm and leading her to the sitting room. He guided her usual place on the sofa across from her grandmother, before walking to the small drink cart. Her phone, forgotten in her hand, beeped once more. Rory glanced down to turn it to silent mode, quickly reading the brief message that appeared on the lock screen.

 _They're just proud Ace. I'd rather be there with you than this stupid company party. I'm running out of small-talk topics. Thankfully it's almost over. Your grandfather though is always a laugh. Have fun._

Rory looked up from her phone and saw the questioning look in her grandmother's eyes, even though Emily was still smiling. "Sorry grandma, grandpa. I meant to put it in my bag before I walked in. I'll do it now," said Rory apologetically, reaching down to slide the device into her purse.

"It's quite alright dear, we know how connected you young people are to your devices these days. It's as if it was another appendage!" Richard chuckled. "Just as long as you put it down enough to talk to us, you know. Now perhaps a martini or a club soda?"

"Gin martini, please." Rory glanced over at Emily as Richard prepared her drink. Was it possible or did Emily's grin get bigger?

Emily smiled at Rory, a knowing gleam in her eye. "That message was from a man, wasn't it? That man you're seeing? No wonder you look so happy. I've seen that look before on you," she stated with a wink. "So, everything is going well there, hmm?" she prodded, her grandmother's curiosity evident.

Rory quickly schooled her features, hoping to promptly steer Emily's focus away from her dating life. "Oh, uh, that was just a friend Grandma. They just said something funny, that's all." Emily huffed, straightening her posture on the sofa. Richard, finished with Rory's drink, handed the glass to his granddaughter, before joining his wife on the couch.

"Now, now Emily, leave the girl alone. I'm sure she wants to keep her life a little bit of a mystery to us." Richard patted his wife's arm and turned to Rory with a grin. "Now Rory, tell us all about your most recent travels. Since we last saw you, you've been in Los Angeles and Hamburg, was it?" At Rory's nod, he continued, "oh good. Glad to see my memory is still intact. How was it? And how did you like Hamburg? Beautiful city."

Rory thought back to the dreadful conference but her unexpected run-in with Logan. She would have to embellish, considering most of her free time was spent in hotel rooms. "Hamburg was great. I was right in the inner city. It's gorgeous there. Nice location to go to for work. And what about you guys? What have you done since I've seen you last?"

Emily immediately jumped in, eager to share their retirement adventures with Rory. "Oh, well! Our old friends the Carmichaels invited us out to their home on Martha's Vineyard last month. We were there a week, and we had a marvelous time. I think we went out on their yacht about four times? Richard, go get the pictures to show Rory." Richard leaped up and rushed to his study.

"So, your mother is late again? I'm assuming she has a reason," questioned Emily, breaking the silence while they awaited his return.

"Oh yeah," Rory trailed off, cursing her mother for forcing her to deal with Emily's wrath. "Uh, I forgot to mention it. Something was going on at the Inn tonight, and she couldn't get away early enough. She's running a little late. She is coming, though," answered Rory.

"Hmm." Emily didn't look too convinced. To Emily, Lorelai tried to be late as often as possible,

Richard returned the sitting room, his iPad in hand. He sat next to Rory on the couch, turning on the device and bringing up the pictures to show her. There were photos of her grandparents with an elderly couple she didn't recognize, the Carmichaels she figured. Some of the images were of the group at the beach, while others were around a dinner table. There were many photos of Richard and Emily on a boat. There were pictures of Richard and Emily with their arms around each other and a few of them looking out from the bow. Rory was glad to see them so happy. Despite their differences, Rory could tell that they loved each other immensely. It was wonderful to see.

"Aww Grandma, Grandpa - you look so happy! It looks like you had a lot of fun. I have to say; I never imagined you two as the seafaring type."

"Oh well, your grandmother is actually quite the seafarer. I think she enjoyed it more than I did. She fished some, but I was really hoping to see her with a harpoon."

Emily rolled her eyes at her husband's teasing. "Really, Richard, you're making it sound like I belong in the Navy. Rory, I just had fun. That's all."

"Well, it looks like it. The Carmichaels have a beautiful home. Their boat is really nice too." The boat triggered an old memory, a previous incident with the man she found herself thinking of often. The vessel was similar to the one she convinced Logan to steal with her all those years ago. She shook her head, reminding herself that it wasn't the same, her mind just wanted it to be. Besides, that boat belonged to the Richardsons, not the Carmichaels. She giggled silently as she saw her grandmother standing at the helm. Apparently, Rory took after her grandmother.

The doorbell rang and the maid hurried to answer. Emily sighed as she got up and walked to the entryway. "Well, I guess your mother has finally decided to grace us with her presence." Rory stayed seated and continued to look at her grandparents' vacation photos. No matter the twists and turns in her own life, the love of her grandparents was a constant she appreciated and valued.

She could hear her mother and grandmother bickering in the hallway and chuckled. "Yes mom, I was late because I had something important to do. It was the eighteenth annual Star's Hollow Wet T-Shirt Contest, and this year it was held at the Dragonfly. I had to help run it and be a judge as well. You don't even know how difficult _that_ was. I kept on getting distracted by the participants!"

"Really, Lorelai. Must you be so obscene?" said Emily exasperatedly.

Rory smiled to herself. Another constant Rory loved? Her mom pushing her grandmother's buttons.

* * *

Rory shuffled out of her room at 8 a.m. Saturday morning, groaning at each step. Lorelai was already seated at the table eating breakfast and reading a magazine.

"Morning, my darling zombie. There's a fresh pot of coffee, and I went out and bought a new box of strawberry pop tarts yesterday just for you," Lorelai cheerfully greeted. Rory only grunted in response. After she had filled her cup, she sat across from her mother and grabbed a foil packet.

"So, what are your plans for today? Just going to hang around here until the Independence Day Festival starts this afternoon?" asked Lorelai in a chipper voice.

"No, I'm going over to Lane's. The boys want flags painted on their faces, so I'm going to go over to help attempt to face paint. Thankfully it's just lines and stars. I think Lane and I would be in a lot of trouble if they wanted a real design."

"That sounds fun. I know you enjoy getting to see Lane when you can. I'm going to head on over to the Inn soon, but Luke and I will meet you later at the diner when the festival gets closer to starting. Just send a text to let us know when you're free."

"Of course." The two made small talk as they finished their own breakfasts. Rory stood up after she finished her pop tart and said, "I better start getting ready. I told Lane I'd be there at ten to help her." Shuffling back into her room, she closed the door but paused. An object sat on her chair, a new addition since her last visit. Grabbing it off the chair, she huffed. How did she miss this yesterday when she arrived? "Unbelievable!" she exclaimed. The nerve of her mother!

Rory threw open the door, meeting her mother's eyes. Lorelai was hunched over the table, clutching her sides. "Oh good, you found it. You like?" she asked with mirth.

Rory's blue eyes narrowed, growing steely. "I thought you said you would return this. In fact, you promised."

"What can I say? I forgot," she shrugged, giggling.

"Unbelievable," Rory muttered. "What did you even do?"

"Can't you tell? It's a pillow." Lorelai reached out, tracing the insignia at the front. "Quite a trendy pillow, too. Modern. Like something you'd find at Urban Outfitters."

"I can't believe this. You made my community service vest into a pillow," Rory mumbled, her eyes tracing the golden seal of the _City of Bridgeport, Connecticut_. "Are you crazy? No, don't answer that." She shook her head as her mother prepared to talk. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes at Rory's outburst. "Relax, kid. I found it in the corner of the closet when I was doing some spring cleaning." She reached for her coffee cup, taking a sip before shrugging once more. "I washed it and did a little arts and crafts. What can I say? It just came to me."

"So you made a pillow," replied Rory, slightly in awe over her mother's creativity.

"Rory, you live in Brooklyn in hipster central. It totally looks like something you'd find in one of those hipster stores. You know, the kind where they sell logs for $100," she explained. "It's recycled! Consider it your late housewarming gift. It will go great with your sofa," her mother ended with a smirk.

"You're insane," grumbled Rory. "I officially stole from the state." Rory stomped back into her room, closing the door behind her. Throwing the pillow back onto the chair, Rory collapsed on the side of the bed, intent to look for clothes for the day.

"I just thought it would be a nice memento of such a charming phase of your life!" yelled her mother through the door.

"Oh, shove it!" Rory replied. She eyed the pillow across the room. She had to admit, it was a little funny. She just couldn't tell her mother.

Once her clothes were gathered and her shower complete, Rory shuffled back to her room, sitting on the edge of the bed. She glanced around, wondering how to pass the time. She didn't have to be at Lane's until an hour later, perhaps enough time to read a book. As she looked at her books sitting on the table in front of her, she noticed her copy of _Moby Dick_. She still remembered how she quoted Melville to convince Logan to steal the boat with her. Not one of her finest moments, for sure. Her phone beeped again with another text message and she reached over to grab it off the bedside table.

 _Keep away from fireworks today, Ace. Admire them from afar, please. Have a great fourth!_

The phone chirped again with another text. _Just a dreary Saturday over here. People chuckle at the traitorous colonies and their silly traditions._

After the second text, Rory decided to give him a call. She barely let him get out a greeting before she started to reprimand him. "You know you're still an American. I don't think you're allowed to make fun of our 'silly traditions' if you're one of us. I get that you live in London now, but you're still a regular ole Yankee," she teased.

"Hey! I have to fit in with my colleagues somehow! Don't worry; I make plenty of Boris Johnson jokes to make up for it. Granted, he makes it really easy."

There was a bit of silence before Rory started to speak again. "So, uh, it's funny you texted me now. I've been thinking about you a lot lately." She had debated telling him this, but events of the past day convinced her to do so.

"Oh really?" Logan sounded intrigued.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, mister. It's not what you think," she admonished and he chuckled on the other end.

"No, but really. You know how I was over my grandparents' house for dinner last night? Grandpa was showing me pictures from their trip to the Vineyard last month. They went on their friends' yacht, very similar looking to the one from our own seafaring adventure. Then this morning my copy of _Moby Dick_ was sitting out on my table in my room. Oh, and get this! My mom took my _City of Bridgeport_ community service vest and made it into a pillow!"

Logan barked out in laughter. "A pillow? Oh, that's such a classic thing for your mom to do. You're going to have to send a photo of that to me, please. Actually, it's too bad you didn't have two vests. I'd love to have my own pillow."

"So not the point of this."

"Well, what is the point?" replied Logan jokingly.

"The point is that now I can't see a boat without thinking of you and our 'Bonnie and Clyde' escapade. Or Moby Dick and apparently this pillow. Boats will forever be tainted by our youthful indiscretions."

"I sunk a yacht and you stole one. We're quite a pair, you and me."

"Hello, you stole it with me too, you know!"

"Oh, come on, I was just a slightly tipsy young man who wanted to make his distraught girlfriend feel better! I would have done anything!" he reasoned. "You can be quite persuasive when you want to be, Ace," he added, his voice huskier.

Rory smiled to herself. She had missed bantering with him like this. "You're right; we are a pair," she murmured.

Quiet fell on the line and Rory's fidgety fingers picked at her bedcover. She bit her lip, struggling over what to say next. The conversation was only to be about boats and the pillow, but the teasing tone turned sober, reminding them of the good days of their relationship.

Logan cleared his throat, perhaps lost in his own memories, and changed the subject. "So, Ace, when am I going to see you again? You told me you came out to London often, but I've yet to hear you say anything."

"Well, uh, I'm actually going to be there in two weeks," she admitted.

"Rory, I thought you were going to tell me when you came to town?" he asked, slightly hurt.

"I know, I just," she trailed, thinking back to their last meeting and the temporary agreement they reached. "I was waiting for a time to bring it up. If you want, I'll send you the details of my flight and the hotel I'll be staying in. I'll be there five days, so there's bound to be enough free time for us to meet up," she rattled off quickly, her nerves getting the best of her. Thankfully, Logan was used to her speedy rambles.

"Ace, wait. I have a proposition for you."

"Okay, shoot."

"Stay with me," he suggested quickly. She guessed Logan was waiting for her response, but she said nothing. "Save some money on the hotel. We'll hang out, go to dinner, maybe I'll show you around some of my new favorite spots."

Rory was hesitant to agree. "I don't know, Logan. That seems-"

"Listen, you don't have to decide right now," he interrupted. "Just, think about it. Make a pro/con list. I think you'll find there are many pros. Plus, I'd really like to spend the time with you," he said convincingly. "Promise me you'll think about it okay? And let me know?"

Rory considered his words. She had to give him an answer soon, but she was still undecided. She knew she had proposed this arrangement, but the actual execution of it somewhat scared her. "I will let you know, okay? Soon," she answered. "You're right, just let me think it over."

"Great, Rory. Look forward to hearing from you. Have a good holiday."

"You too, Logan. Bye." Rory hung up the phone and looked back at her copy of _Moby Dick_. Could she really be alone with Logan again?

* * *

New York City - July 6, 2015

Rory drove back to the city on Sunday, promising her mom and Luke that she would try to make it home again soon. On Monday, she ventured down to SoHo, meeting her friend Carolina for coffee and shopping. Carolina was a journalist friend who now worked for InStyle and as a result, was always up-to-date on the current trends. Even though Rory couldn't afford much, she loved to tag along with her to her favorite stores.

Rory and Carolina were just exiting DKNY on Broadway when Carolina turned to her and said, "hey you want to look at charm bracelets? They're more bangles than your typical charm bracelets, but still, they're pretty cool. I need to get something for my little sister anyway."

"Sure," replied Rory. "Lead the way."

They made their way across the street and into the store called _Alex and Ani_. Rory was surprised at the selection. Each bangle consisted of one charm, and there were so many options to choose from. Carolina made her way over to the hobbies display, while Rory meandered over to the animal charms. They had the typical animals such as dogs and cats, but they had some other, more unusual animals as well. Then Rory spotted the swan charm. The bangle and charm were both a gold finish and the swan was elegantly posed with its wings in the air, as if it was about to take flight. It was lovely.

"Excuse me," she asked the woman behind the counter. "How much is the swan charm?"

The woman came over and looked in the display. "It's twenty-eight dollars for the gold finish."

"Great, I'll take it." The woman gave her the option of wearing it out of the store, and Rory readily accepted. As she waited for Carolina to complete her purchase, Rory mulled over her new charm. It didn't have to mean anything, she could just like swans. When Carolina came over, they compared purchases, and Carolina nodded appreciatively at Rory's selection.

As they walked out of the store, Rory quickly reached a decision. She stopped on the sidewalk and called out to Carolina, who was walking in the direction of their next stop. "Wait, Carolina, I just have to make a call to someone. I'll meet you there, okay?" Carolina waved and continued on her way. Rory found the name in her contact list and hit _Call._ There was no backing out of this now. Rory glanced at the bracelet as it glittered in the sunlight and grinned. The phone gave two rings before the voice on the other side greeted her.

"Hey, Logan. I've made my decision. If you're still game, I'd love to take you up on your offer and stay with you." Even though she couldn't see him, she knew he was smiling.

"Looking forward to it, Ace."

 **Chapter Notes:**

A picture of the swan charm is listed in a post on my Tumblr.

Thanks for reading.

 _This is an updated version of the chapter that was first posted in December 2016._


	3. Royal Nights

**AN:** Thank you for your reviews, favorites and follows.

 **Disclaimer:** I didn't write this show. If I did, I would've made sure that they called them Twizzlers, not Red Vines. (Seriously though Amy - Red Vines are a California thing. Can you even buy them in Connecticut?)

 **Chapter 3: Royal Nights**

London, England - August 16, 2015

Rory woke early Sunday morning, the soft sunbeams hitting her eyelids and rousing her from dreams. She opened them slowly, letting them adjust to the light. With her head resting on Logan's chest, she awoke to her body nestled into his side, her hand resting over his heart. Throughout the night their legs had tangled together, and now his arm laid on the pillow over her head, falling to the side after hours of cradling her to his body. Rory thought it odd how quickly they had settled into their old sleeping habits, but in many ways, not weird at all. After all the nights they spent together over their three-year relationship, it seemed only natural that they would settle into old patterns.

Rory used the time alone to study his features, searching for any changes since her visit last month. Her eyes traced his forehead, across his straight nose and down to his full lips. His face was thinner now, his cheekbones more pronounced than what she remembered from their youth. Long, thick eyelashes delicately framed his expressive eyes. She partly wished he would wake so she could study their brown depths. With the passage of time, he had developed small wrinkles on his forehead and crinkles near his eyes. She knew the crinkles were well-deserved, a result of his constant smiling in his niece and nephew's presence. With as much as he adored Honor, she knew he was a great uncle and loved playing with the kids. His morning stubble was coming in, and she knew that when he'd kiss her good morning that it would tickle her cheeks. His blonde hair was slightly rumpled, though hours later it would be styled neatly, no longer the mess of hair she often ran her hands through. Now it was a shorter cut, making him look older and professional.

It was only her second visit to Logan's home this summer. One week after that first trip, Rory hesitantly brought up a return date, gauging his reaction. When he voiced his pleasure, she shyly asked his availability in August, wondering if they could have a repeat. "Of course," he replied over the phone. "You know I'd love for you to stay with me." Filled with happiness, she immediately booked her travel arrangements, already counting down the days until she could see his face once more. She knew the trip would be worthwhile, knowing that he was probably already planning new events for them. She appreciated his attention to detail, ensuring that she'd enjoy herself. But she also knew it wasn't the location or the activities, it was the man himself that made her visit even more special.

* * *

London, July 2015

At first, her visit started out somewhat awkward. Rory arrived early on a Wednesday morning, a little jet lagged but ready to start her trip. Logan met her at the airport outside of security, patiently waiting for her with a smile. They gave each other a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek, the introduction more friendly than romantic. He took her back to his home in the hired car to drop off her luggage, leading her around his house, showing her where she could go. He had hurry back to the office (he took an early lunch), but told her she had free reign. "You can hang out here as long as you like," he said. "Feel free to look around or unpack until you need to leave." He then slipped her a spare key, the number to the car service if she needed it, and a tube map with her own Oyster card. He left with a grin and rushed goodbye, yelling out that he'd be back for dinner.

Rory unwound and changed her clothes, before venturing out the door to meet her source. Logan found her on his couch, pouring over her notes when he arrived later that evening, slightly tired from his long day at work. Dropping his briefcase by his desk, he leaned over the back of the couch to peck her cheek, Logan looking slightly more energized as they exchanged greetings. They spoke briefly of their day, before gathering their jackets, Logan leading her to the local pub. It was nice, she thought, as they smiled at each other over the table; they discussed their work, and he told her about a dilemma at the office. Afterward, they returned to his home, lounging on his couch while watching a drama on ITV. This led to them snuggling together, eventually making out heavily before moving to the bed. How many times had this exact scene happened before when they lived together? They woke the next morning, the awkwardness almost gone. From then on it was like the way it was back in the days at their New Haven apartment.

Rory used the next two days to finish her article, meeting Logan for dinner on Thursday once again. But on Friday morning he told her that he had a surprise and to dress nicely that evening. Intrigued, she wore a sundress with a lightweight sweater, eager to see what the evening had in store. She never knew what to expect with him. He came home that night with a grin, telling her that he hoped she was ready for what he had planned that night. She didn't know if she was, but she was excited to see what had him so gleeful. Later that evening she was giddy, exhilarated and unable to stop talking about what they experienced.

"I can't believe you took me to see _The Lion King_! That was incredible! It was unbelievable. I mean I love the movie, but the music, the costumes, everything was so awesome. And you didn't even fall asleep! I was so proud," she teased as they exited the Lyceum Theatre.

"Well, I remembered how much you love that film," he replied with a laugh. "Plus, everyone always said it was great. I never had a reason to go before you. So thank you for coming out so that I could share this with you."

"It was wonderful, Logan. Thank you. You've managed to make what was sure to be a dull visit to London fun," she said sincerely.

"I'm glad Ace. And it's not over yet," he hinted, brows raised as he led her through the crowds.

"Really? It's getting late. Where are we going?"

"No trip to the West End is complete without after-musical drinks and dessert at _The Ivy._ Now come on, we have somewhere to be!" With that he grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him, ushering her through the crowds and to the restaurant.

Logan woke her early on Saturday morning, telling her to pack a small overnight bag and to leave her work at his place. Confused and drowsy, she questioned where it was they were going this time, but he just replied with his typical "it's a surprise." She noted how early it was, only after seven, and thought he was crazy as she struggled to untangle herself from the sheets.

"Don't worry Ace, you can sleep on the train," he said as he handed her a cup of coffee.

She gave him a questioning look, her mind running as she processed his hint of the train, but meandered her way to the bathroom anyway, trusting whatever he had planned. As it turned out, he took her to Brighton. Not the beach experience she was used to, but delightful all the same. They went to the Palace Pier, played arcade games and the sideshows. She had a blast and felt like a teenager instead of a thirty-year-old struggling writer. It was just what she had needed to forget the monotony of her career.

They had gone to another pub that night, both ordering fish and chips and drinking too many pints of beer. Drunk, they stumbled back the small inn he had made reservations at, barely making it through their door before proceeding to remove each other's clothing. They knew their affection for each other was a bit too public, but they didn't care. All they cared about was the present and forgetting that the outside world existed. For now, they could just be the people hidden beneath their serious exteriors.

He took her back to London on Sunday, merely ordering takeaway for dinner. They were content just to relax, watching and critiquing more television dramas. They never spoke of her impending departure except once, when Logan asked if she wanted to use the car the next day. Nor did they mention when it would happen again. She felt as if there was so much to talk about, what occurred between during this visit. In fact, he almost brought it up once, but she quickly changed the subject, and he understood not to bring it up again. When they said their farewells the following morning, she thanked him for showing her a wonderful time and for being a great host. "Thanks for making Vegas more fun than I remembered," she said, grimacing internally at her use of Vegas again, while he gave her a look that puzzled her. She stored it in the back of her mind, reminding herself to remember his face the next time she stupidly brought up their agreement.

* * *

Logan must have felt she was awake now. He stirred, his breaths coming quicker as his body entered consciousness. He groaned slightly and slowly opened his eyes, angling his head down to look at her. He blinked several times as if he had to remind himself that she was there. He squeezed the hand that was on his chest, then turned his body more towards hers. They stared at each other, neither willing to speak first but content to just exist together.

"Morning," he finally mumbled in a rough, scratchy voice. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," she replied quietly.

"Liar." He gave a soft grin and added, "you were watching me sleep again, weren't you?"

"You think too highly of yourself, mister."

"No, I just know you. You just can't help staring at me, can you?" he joked, stretching his legs under the covers. "Although you used to make this look back when I first met you, kind of a gaping, fish look. It was cute. I knew I had you hooked then," he teased.

"Glad to see that ego hasn't changed since I met you 11 years ago," she grumbled. She idly palmed his chest, tracing the planes and lines. In return, his hand that was near her shoulder reached up to gently stroke her hair, his fingers running through the brown tresses.

Content in the moment, his smile widened and his hand paused. "Hey, come here you," Logan ordered in a husky voice, the arm on Rory's head moving down her neck. He gently grasped her shoulder, bringing her body closer into his embrace. His head angled down, their lips meeting in greeting. His other hand moved to her cheek, drawing her into him even further. Rory sighed, opening her mouth to him, her fingers lightly scratching his chest in pleasure. Their tongues tangled slowly, lazily, as they the couple relished the morning. Rory giggled as face brushed against hers. She was right; the stubble was ticklish. Her hand on his chest moved up to his neck, and she slowly pulled away to look at him thoroughly.

"Morning," Logan said with hooded eyes, his voice low with pleasure.

Rory reached up, brushing his hair back. "You already said that you know."

"Well, it's like they say: it's so nice you have to say it twice."

"I have morning breath."

"As do I. I don't care."

"Hmmm," she replied noncommittally, breaking their eye contact.

Rory had missed their early morning banter. She usually was grumpier while he was teasing, as he knew she didn't entirely get playful until her first cup of java. She knew from experienced that this was when he enjoyed pushing her buttons the most.

He kissed her quickly and smiled. "I'm going downstairs to make you some coffee." He gave another peck. "Be right back." He turned down the covers and reached for his jogging pants, forgoing the shirt as he made his way to the stairs.

"My hero!" she teased, making a swooning sound with her voice.

"Damn straight," echoed his voice from the stairway.

Rory sat up fully, yawning as she stretched her arms. She glanced at the side of the bed, searching for the shirt she left there last night. She slipped it over her body, her mind drifting to the previous week. Drawing her legs up under the covers, she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her head on her knees while she gazed out into his living room. She enjoyed her second visit immensely and was disappointed to leave the next day. However, as her thoughts returned to the previous week's activities, she grew sullen, knowing that her heart realized something that her mind wasn't ready to face.

* * *

 _Earlier that week_

She once again arrived on a Wednesday, with Logan waiting for her at the airport with his hired car. This time, he didn't stay with her when the driver dropped her off at his home. Instead, he gave her a kiss and left with a promise to see her later that night, settling back into his car to return to the office. She dropped her suitcases off in the bedroom and took a shower, then gathered her things and ventured out to her own meetings. The rest of the work week followed much of the same pattern as it had the last visit. On Wednesday and Thursday, they grabbed takeaway and worked on their laptops on his couch, eventually shutting the laptops to watch a program on the TV together. Friday night he took her to a trendy restaurant nearby, chatting about work in between bites. Rory went into deep detail over the articles she'd written lately, listening as gave his opinions and suggestions on her current ones. He was still cheering her on and complimenting her work, and Rory realized that not much had changed all these years.

Saturday turned out to be a gorgeous and sunny summer day, so they decided to spend the day in Hyde Park. They bought ice creams and candies, finding a cozy shaded spot to lounge under a tree. They brought their books with them, content to let the day pass in silence, enjoying each other's presence while they caught up on their reading. As the day wore on, Rory adjusted her seating as she grew more comfortable, her head resting on his lap while he leaned against the tree trunk. He held his book with one hand with his other brushing her hair, pausing for breaks when he reached up to turn a page. Rory found his hand incredibly distracting, but also disconcerting, breaking her from her concentration. The feel of his fingers took her back, remembering stolen moments during her last two visits. Her mind kept returning to a single, frightening thought: if only things were different.

Rory had such ease with Logan. As she sat on the plane during her first trip over, she agonized how they would handle this arrangement she proposed that morning in the hotel room. She knew she didn't have to accept his offer to stay with him, but that unexpected moment of bravery in the streets of SoHo had her calling him and saying yes. When he met her at the airport that first day, his smile melted all her doubts, Rory forgetting her worries as they greeted each other in the crowd. They quickly settled into a new routine, similar to the days they shared all those years ago. They talked every day, texted regularly, and knew what they were doing in each other's lives. An outsider would have no idea they were not dating, and Rory was beginning to think they almost were. But they couldn't, not really; she had Paul (once again reminding herself she had to break it off with him), and he had his own society girlfriend, providing him company when the time allowed. They never mentioned their partners to each other, but they alluded to them in little ways, referring to them in passing when they did something "with a friend."

But more insidious thoughts settled in her mind, keeping Rory awake at night as she stared at his form in the dark. She still cared for him, as much as she tried to deny it, him being the first and last person she thought of in the day. It scared her, how her feelings for the man developed in intensity over the summer. She supposed the feelings were always there; they were suppressed, hidden in the recesses of her mind as she went through life these last nine years. Rory was always able to move on from people, but she was never able to turn off her emotions altogether, knowing that she still cared for Dean and Jess too despite their bad breaks.

As the sun rose higher in the sky and the park more crowded, her mind wandered. Rory wasn't thinking of their current predicament, but of the decision she made a little over eight years ago on the grounds of Yale, when he gave her the ultimatum and then walked away. Should she have fought for him? Should she have demanded that they'd find a way to make this work? His reaction to her rejection made her think that he didn't want to fight for them, that maybe it was the end of the road for him. But they weren't on the same page, not then. She often forgot that he was older than her, more experienced in life after Yale. There she was, about to embark on her wide open future, following her dreams. She didn't want chains, any restrictions on her endless possibilities. Not then, but now? They both were settled (him a little more), and perhaps they could finally be on that same page.

Maybe they needed the time apart to grow their careers. Or perhaps they needed a long engagement, to spend that time apart in another long-distance arrangement. Nothing she had seen these last two visits said that they couldn't work well together. If this was what married life together was like, what scared her then? If she moved in with him, would she still have those chains? She tried to remember her reasoning from that evening, when her thoughts darkened as she watched the ring glisten in the light. Was it the part where she'd be attached to his family or was it the fear of losing her identity? They never talked about kids, but there always was an implied future in their conversations. After all the cheerleading he gave her, she didn't honestly think he'd expect her to be barefoot and pregnant. After he stormed out of his house in that first dreadful dinner, she never thought he wanted just a wife at home, a companion only in his bed and at the table.

If there was one fact that Rory was confident of, never unwavering through the years, it was this: she loved the idea of being married to him during those moments after he gave her that ring. She almost took that jump, that leap of faith with him. When her mother said that she'd just know, she almost thought she did. That evening when she was eating cereal and trying on the ring, she imagined their house with the avocado tree and his face when she told him yes. But the next morning when she stood in line, her years of hard work her mother's voice on relationships came back to haunt her. She went to Yale to have a career, not a husband. She couldn't have both, or could she?

Logan's hand paused on her hair, moving down her neck to rest on her shoulder. He gently squeezed her arm, drawing her attention to him. He leaned over to look into her eyes, his forehead creased in concern. "You stopped reading. Everything okay in there?"

"Hmm?" she replied, gazing at him wide-eyed.

"You stopped reading about twenty minutes ago. You were in quite the daydream there. Is something bothering you?" he asked.

Rory sat up slowly, shooting him a smile. "Nope, just was thinking what a pretty day it was. I was thinking about work too. Nothing major."

"Well, that's good at least. Don't want to have you worrying about things on a Saturday." He closed his book and placed it in the bag he brought with him. "Listen, you ready to head back? I made some plans with some friends for dinner. They want to see you."

"Oooh, do I get to meet your fancy British friends? Where are we going then?"

Logan shrugged, fighting a smile. "Something like that. Just a local place, a pub. You'll like it. Actually, I guarantee you'll enjoy tonight."

"I will, huh? I am intrigued."

"Well, I love to surprise. Come on." He stood offering his hand to help her up. "Let's head home."

Rory took his hand gratefully, the two only letting go as they passed through the turnstiles in the Underground station. They grinned stupidly at one another during their ride back, ignoring the knowing glances of the people watching them.

"Very nice," Rory said later that night as they walked through the pub door. "When will your friends get here?"

"Actually," he began, drawing out his reply. "They're already here." He smirked at her, his eyes crinkling.

"What are you not telling me?" she asked with a frown, knowing he was up to something. She looked out into the pub, stopping at a familiar face in the distance. She gave him a sidelong glance. "Are you serious right now?" He continued to smirk. "No way." With that she rushed towards the booth in the back, not waiting to see if he was following her.

"Well I'll be damned," she teased as she stood at the table.

"Do I know you?"

"Cut it out Finn," directed Colin at the Aussie. "Don't mind him, Rory. He doesn't seem to understand that the joke has long since died. Now, it's great to see you again," he ended with a hug.

"It's great to see you guys too! It's been so long. Logan didn't tell me we were meeting you."

"That's Logan, our naughty boy," replied Finn, also standing to give her a hug.

"Finn, how many times have I told you not to call me naughty? It creeps me out." Logan arrived and shook their hands. "Good to see you again, boys. Robert, glad you could make it as well. I knew it was iffy."

"Well, that's business. I made up a crisis to get out of yesterday's meeting so I could catch the flight here. Rory, great to see you again doll. Tell me, jumped off any scaffolds lately?"

"You boys know you're the only ones I'll jump off scaffolds with. Now," she paused and looked at each of the faces in the group. " I want to hear about everything I've missed in the last eight years. Logan has told me some, but nothing compares to hearing it from the source."

The group spent hours in that corner of the pub, reminiscing about days at Yale and get-togethers they had through the years. Rory was sad she couldn't experience it with them but was glad they remained so close after all these years. She may not have agreed with everything Logan chose to do back at Yale; nevertheless, she knew that his friendship with them was one of the rocks that grounded him when he dealt with the pressures from his family. It was a way for him to let loose and pretend he was an average student, not a member of one of the most influential families in the media industry. Logan didn't often speak, only choosing to add to the conversation when necessary for a story. He instead kept his hand on her knee, grinning at her when she looked over at him in disbelief when they told her another tale about Logan.

"Thank you all again for coming. I missed you all," Rory said as they walked out of the pub many hours later.

"Love, it was a pleasure, as always," said Finn with a kiss on her cheek.

"Yeah, when Logan told us you were going to be in town, we knew we had to come see you again," added Colin.

Robert was the last to give her a hug. "You know we always considered you one of the gang."

"Thanks for coming again, guys," said Logan as he said goodbye to them as well. "See you soon."

"You can guarantee that we'll see you again too, Rory. Until next time, love."

Rory laughed as she gave a final wave. "Until next time Finn. Goodnight, all. Safe travels home." Logan gave them one last wave as he helped her in the cab. They were silent on the way home, content to just sit next to each other with her head on his shoulder. They made it to his home, and he unlocked the door. He went up the stairs silently, Rory following behind after she fastened the deadbolt and turned off the lights.

He stood at the end table at the end of the couch, slowly removing his watch and wallet. She observed him for a moment, watching his graceful movements. As he turned and met her eyes, she walked up to him, gently pulled his face down to hers and kissed him deeply. His hands came up to grip her waist while hers moved into his hair. She finally pulled away, moving her hands to wrap around his neck. "Thank you for tonight," she whispered.

"It was nothing. The guys wanted to see you. I knew I could get them to come out. They always loved you," he replied sincerely.

"No, it's not that. You knew how much it would mean to me to see them again." He was quiet as she looked into his eyes. "These past two visits? They've been amazing. The tour guide schtick was nice, sure. I enjoyed all the things you planned for us. But this? This was the most thoughtful. You have no idea how much I needed to remind myself of all the fun I, well we, had at Yale. It was the most wonderful time of my life, and well, I needed to have a bit of that magic again."

"Well, I'm glad you had fun tonight Ace."

"I did," she replied with a grin. "Now, speaking of fun at Yale."

"Fun at Yale?" he questioned. He gripped her waist harder, as his thumbs slightly stroked her sides. "You have me curious."

"I seem to remember other fun we had." Her fingers moved to his buttons, undoing them deftly and pushing the fabric apart. When her hands met his chest, she leaned back in for another deep kiss. It was his turn to pull away this time, smirking as he did so.

"Hmm, I think I remember this fun, but you'll need to remind me," he replied as he guided her back her to the bed, exchanging more kisses along the way.

"Well, I don't know. I guess I can help you remember."

* * *

Rory was pulled from her recollections when Logan appeared at her side with two cups, leaning down to hand her morning brew. She gave gentle thanks in reply as he sat down next to her on the bed. As they both sipped their beverages, Rory thought back to all those times in New Haven when he'd wake first and bring her coffee in bed. He knew that she took time to rise on the weekends; he always offered to brew it for her so she could lie in. Much like his outgoing personality, Logan was very much a "get up and do something" guy on the weekends, as he usually had plans to go out and make his own adventures.

"So, I was thinking downstairs," he began to say while he stared at the floor.

"Hmm, was it difficult?" teased Rory.

Logan turned to her with a slight grin. "I was thinking," he began again, holding back a chuckle. "That perhaps today you'd want to do something different? Do you want to go to the British Museum?" he suggested, waiting for her reaction. "I know you've been there before, but you love it there, and it's huge. I know there are exhibits in there that you haven't seen. We could walk around and get lunch. Then we could shop around the area if we want to afterward. After that, we can come back here to freshen up and unwind. Choose a place to go for dinner. As it's your last night here, we'll go anywhere you want. Any places you're dying for me to take you?"

Logan always was a planner for outings. He hated sitting still. Rory appreciated that he spent all this effort to play tour guide these last two times she had visited (three if you counted that last Christmas in London when she was still at Yale). "I think the museum sounds great, Logan. That would be fun. I don't know of many places to go for dinner, though. You know I'm up for anything. I just don't know if I want pub food again."

He creased his brows in thought and tapped his cup. After a moment he questioned, "how about _The Ivy_ again? You enjoyed it a lot last time. I'll make us a reservation for tonight."

"Sounds great." They smiled at each other over their coffee cups and lapsed into silence again. Rory took a few more sips and just enjoyed his presence next to her. Setting her cup on the table, she said, "I'm going to take a shower and get ready to go if that's okay." She removed the covers from her and stood.

Logan stood as well. "Great, I'm going to go look at some of my emails while you're doing that." He made his way over to the couch, exchanging his cup for the MacBook on the coffee table. He opened the laptop and began rhythmically clicking, comfortably settling into his work dork mode. Rory glanced over at him as he did this, once again thinking to herself how much he had grown over the years.

"What, do I have something on my face?" he said while not looking up from his computer. He had caught her staring again.

"No, it's," she began, watching as he eyed her curiously. "It's just you," she replied with a grin.

Logan didn't reply to her odd comment, just only gave her a smile before returning to his screen. Rory turned to walk into the bathroom but stopped when she noticed something on the wall. "Logan?"

"Hmm?" She could still hear him typing behind her.

"You have a sword on your wall."

"Why, yes I do." He stopped typing and looked over with a wry smile.

"But, why? It's huge. Do you need it? Like, are you going to use it to fight off home invaders like Joaquin Phoenix does with a bat in _Signs_?" she asked turning to him. "London has changed you. In the States, we just have guns in the drawers next to our beds."

He chuckled. "No, it's just for show Ace. I found it at an auction and well, I liked the idea of having something like that again." He went back to typing. Rory frowned, confused about what he was referring to at first. Then it dawned on her.

"Wait. Logan, where is Henry? You loved him. You moved him to your New York apartment after I moved in with Paris. You dressed him up, sometimes in my clothes I might add, just to have a laugh. Although you did tend to speak to him sometimes when you were drunk. That was entertaining. This would be the perfect place for him! It fits in with your London theme."

"I don't have him anymore, Ace," came the solemn reply.

"I can't believe you got rid of Henry! Aww, poor Henry."

"You can relax. Finn has him."

"Finn." Rory raised her brows. "You gave him to Finn. That seems dangerous. Henry has a sword, and it wasn't nailed to a wall, and frankly, it was easy to grab. And we both know about Finn's penchant for role-playing."

"No." He closed his laptop to focus more on her. "It's nothing like that. I just - I put him in storage with my things when I moved out of the apartment along with other things from my parents' house. Things I planned to take with me to California. When it came time to move, though, I didn't think I could take him with me. He held bad memories, but also good ones. I just couldn't bear parting with him. Finn was with me, and he took him. Henry's in one of his homes now. He takes good care of him. Talks to him more than I used to, to be quite honest."

She chewed on her bottom lip as she listened to his answer. Rory felt terrible that he couldn't look at Henry anymore; she considered the long stored away box of random things of Logan's she collected after the breakup and understood his reasoning. "Well," she returned somewhat cheerfully, "at least Henry has a good home now. I'm just uh, going to go get ready now," she mumbled, and she walked back into the bathroom.

They set out at noon, first stopping to eat at a small cafe near his home, before walking over to the tube station to take the ride to the museum. They wandered around the galleries for several hours, staying almost to closing time. Then they took a cab back to his home, stopping quickly to change and drop off her purchases from the gift shop. They arrived at _The Ivy_ for their reservation at eight, both looking elegant in their attire, him in another well-fitting suit and her in a summer floral dress.

After the dinner plates had been long cleared, they spoke over their desserts and espresso, sharing their thoughts about the objects they saw at the museum. _This_ , she thought to herself as he enthusiastically discussed the Egyptian artifacts they had seen earlier, _this is what I've been missing all these years._ The light in his eyes, the smile in his voice. Talking about everything and anything, never running out of subjects. There was never a dull moment in his presence. But the voice in the back of her mind lingered, telling her this was too good to last. She was just waiting for the other shoe to drop, pulling them out of the fantasy bubble they had created here. Those wide open doors from many years ago were calling, reaching out to forcibly draw her back in with a hard pull.

 **AN:** For those who would rather not rewatch the revival (and I can completely understand), there is a picture of the sword on my Tumblr. I also kind of drone on about my annoyance with ASP's decisions about the two of them in London. Because honestly, the more I think about it, the more it confuses me.

As always, thanks for reading.

 _This is an updated version of the chapter that was first posted in December 2016_.


	4. Velázquez

**AN:** Thank you for your reviews, follows and favorites.

I know this chapter was linked on a Tumblr blog. The first chapter has my notes for this story and it may answer some questions you may have.

 **Disclaimer:** I didn't get the pleasure of directing Matt Czuchry in his shirtless scenes in "Fall." If I did, he wouldn't have put the shirt back on. Unfortunately, that was all Amy. Darn.

 **Chapter 4: Velázquez**

Hartford, Connecticut - Labor Day Weekend, 2015

There were so many memories in this room _._

Logan paced in his parents' sitting room, staring at the various pieces of art displayed while nursing his scotch. The whole family was here for this holiday. Honor and Josh had driven up earlier with their two kids, while he had driven up yesterday after he completed his meetings in the city. Usually, they would spend the holiday weekend in the Vineyard but there was some problem with the old house, and it had to undergo some repairs. Stuck coming to the family home, Logan couldn't escape to his usual Vineyard haunts like the gym or along the beach to avoid his family. No matter, there were more places to hide in this house. Years of hiding from the nanny had taught him that.

Logan paused in front of the couch. He could still imagine Rory's form in that pale blue dress, sitting on this cushion as his family behaved like their usual charming selves. Had it really been ten years since he brought her here to his home, where they insulted her at that disastrous dinner?

He wondered how Rory was doing, what she was doing at the moment. She mentioned she was going home to Stars Hollow this weekend; they had some town festival going on that she wanted to see. Did she have Friday night dinner with her grandparents last night? Will she and her mother go to Luke's for pie and coffee tonight? After her visit in August, their communication became more and more frequent. He had mentioned to her that he would be in the city this past week and it led to them meeting up on Monday night for dinner. She ended up staying the night at his hotel, while he got to see the inside of her charming Brooklyn apartment the next night. Well, it was charming enough for what he could remember of it. They were otherwise preoccupied. He just wanted to relish the little time together they had.

Rory made what was going to be a miserable business trip bearable and dare he say it, fun. He enjoyed being in her company again. This summer had been wonderful for him, awakening feelings in him he had long since repressed into the deepest recesses of his soul. Sure, there was a bit of nostalgia for their time at Yale, but all this time with her had proved one thing to him: that what they felt back then had been authentic and tangible.

Still, there were so many things he wanted to tell her. He was holding back, and he knew she was too. He wanted to explain her the _real_ reason he went back to his father, not the glossy overview he gave her back in Hamburg. He wanted to share his true feelings about his life now and how he was, or more like wasn't quite dealing with it. He longed to tell her that being with her in these stolen moments had made him happier than he'd been in a long time. Most of all he wanted to say to her just how much he was genuinely proud of her, even if it meant turning him down and him walking away way back then. She deserved the world and all the success it had to offer, and she still did, even if that meant he couldn't be a part of it all this time. But maybe... maybe there could be a change this time around.

He made several laps around the large room, drowning himself in memories until he was standing in front of the portrait of the girl in the blue dress. Just another Rory memory he could reflect on, remembering her pain from that night. He wished he could have made Rory understand. It wasn't that he was too good for her, it was that she was always way too good for him. Logan was so much like the girl in the painting - surrounded by excess on the outside yet inside filled with unhappiness. How apropos for this house, this _prison_. Did he have that same mournful look in photos from his childhood?

There was hand on his shoulder accompanied by a pleasant, accented voice. "Hello, you." He turned to look at the woman behind him. She was almost as tall as him, with pale skin and dark brown hair. Her green eyes showed concern. "Everything all right? Dinner will be starting soon."

"Uh huh." He shook his head. "I mean yes," he rephrased. "Nothing's wrong. Just thinking about things." He gave her a wan smile. "I'm sorry you got dragged out here. I know it wasn't what you'd consider an ideal American weekend nor is it any fun. It would have been somewhat tolerable if we could have gone to the Vineyard, but... here we are." He took a sip of his scotch and gave a glance at the painting. "I know it can't be easy with work too since this is a busy time of year and all," he added.

"It wasn't a problem. I needed the break." Logan nodded and spared another glance at the painting. "So, are you looking for the meaning of life in the Velázquez painting or something?" she asked with humor in her voice. Logan raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to reply, but she beat him to it. "Don't look so surprised; I know it's a Velázquez. I may work in fashion but don't forget I read art history at Cambridge."

"No, it's not that. I know you're not dumb, far from it, you know that. Just, there's only one other person who's noticed it before, and it kind of threw me to hear you do so as well. That's all. Took me back." He scoffed and added, "you know, I don't even think my parents know who he is? They don't even know that it's famous nor do they care ever to find out. I think they just saw that it was expensive, so they put it here to make them look worldly and intimidating. Shocker, huh?"

She shrugged, turning to sit on the nearest couch. "Well, it is part of the life."

Logan grunted in reply, taking yet another sip from his scotch. He walked around the couch and picked up a vase, studying it. "By the way, your father wants to talk to you."

"He does? What a shame."

She continued hesitantly, "he talked to me, too."

"I'm sure he was his usual, affable self," he replied sarcastically.

"He wasn't bad. He asked about how things were going, my work in Paris, things like that." She paused and added, "he asked about my future. What my plans are. He shared his thoughts."

Logan put down the vase and sighed. "Jesus, I hope he isn't forcing too much on you. You have your life. You need to be in Paris."

"Don't worry. I can handle him."

"If you say so." Logan sat down next to her. "Listen, we have a saying here. My father likes to praise and manipulate people, thinking that they're coming up with their own ideas when really those ideas are his. We call it 'being Huntzbergered.' I hope he isn't doing that to you."

"Logan. I can handle myself, I assure you." She tilted her head to the side and grinned. "I have years of practice too, you know."

He patted her knee and leaned back on the couch. A minute passed in companionable silence.

"Oh, there you two are!" came Shira's cheerful voice as she stepped into the sitting room. "I hope you two are enjoying yourselves. I was just upstairs with Honor and Josh getting the kids ready. Oh, they're just wonderful, those two darlings. I just love being a grandmother." She stopped in front of them and gave a sly smile. "Lots to talk about I assume?"

"Oh, I was just admiring your art collection, Shira. Logan was kind enough to inform me of their history."

"Why thank you, dear. That's indeed our Logan. I'm sure you have found, Odette, that his interests are vast and sophisticated. We made sure to give Logan a well-rounded education and his father and I are so glad some things stuck."

Odette just gave a polite smile in return.

Logan rolled his eyes at his mother's exaggerated praise. "Yep, that's me. I'm well-cultivated, like a topiary," he muttered.

Shira pointedly ignored him, but Odette shot him an amused look.

"Well, if you two want to make your way into the dining room, you can do so. I'm off to grab your father, try to pull him away from his work. I hear Honor and Josh coming downstairs now." With that she turned away and walked through the archway, her heels clicking on the tile flooring as she walked to Mitchum's office.

Logan stood and turned to offer his hand to Odette. "Well, come on, this docent is continuing his tour of the mausoleum in the dining room. More artwork to see and analyze in there."

Odette stood as well and took his arm. "Let her think what she wants. Now, I believe you offered me a tour."

"Let's just get this dinner over with, shall we?"

* * *

"...and the Bradfords hosted a marvelous summer benefit at the club several weeks ago, Honor. I saw your friend Victoria with her husband there. She was pregnant again! Anyway, they had a raffle, and I convinced your father to bid on tickets to the Met Opera, and we won of course. So I'll have to look at the dates again and let you know. Perhaps I can stop by to see the children while your dad is at the office, before the performance that night."

They were now on the third course, and Shira had gossiped about her society friends all through dinner. Logan was bored; he knew Odette and Josh had to be too. Honor was the only one actively participating in Shira's rambles so far, though not as happily. Most everyone focused on eating and drinking. Logan hardly paid attention to anything around him and now moved his food around on his plate.

"That's fine mom. Just let me know so I can make sure to cancel any appointments I may have that day. See if Josh can make lunch with us." Josh turned to her, his eyebrows raised, but Honor put her hand on his and gave him a _we'll talk later_ look. Josh rolled his eyes and went back to eating.

"What will we see again? Pag-glee-a-chee or something? I hate these Italian names. I never know what the hell they're about."

" _Pagliacci_. It's about a sad clown, dad," answered Logan, speaking for the first time since dinner started. "There was a _Seinfeld_ episode about it."

"A sad clown huh? Just great. Well, it sounds like the night will be wonderful. At least I have ESPN on my phone now," he said brusquely before leaning back over his food.

Shira stared at her husband across the table, looking as if she wanted to respond to his lack of enthusiasm but thought better of it. Schooling her features, she turned to her son, her smile haughty one more.

"Logan, I feel you've been here all this time and we've barely spoken. You're just so reticent these days! How is your work in London?"

"Work is fine. There are tourists everywhere. It rains. That's about it." He moved his peas around, creating different geometric shapes.

Shira pursed her lips, annoyed at his curt response. "Well, there's more to London than just the weather. It does change; it's not just rain."

"You're right; the weather does change. Sometimes the rain changes directions," Logan answered sardonically.

Mitchum jumped in, cutting off Shira who was about to admonish Logan on his rudeness. "Logan is doing well enough, Shira. My colleagues tell me Logan has managed to do just fine with the work he's been given."

"You've practically put me in charge of the international division, dad," said Logan, irked. "I have very few people working above me. If you have issues with the ' _just fine_ ' work I've been doing, maybe you shouldn't have put me in charge of so much."

"Now you listen here, Logan…"

"Mitchum," warned Shira. Mitchum turned to her at the other end of the table and closed his mouth in irritation. "This is not the time nor is it the place. Now," she changed into a cheerful voice once again. "Odette, how has Paris been? I just _love_ Paris in the summer. Mitchum and I have been meaning to go back for a while."

Logan grimaced to himself. Just the image he needed: Shira and Mitchum on a romantic trip to Paris. He looked around the table, taking note of everyone's demeanor. He looked over at Josh, who was still eating heartily. Josh never really spoke at these dinners nor did he blame the guy. Josh was lucky, though; he never seemed to be asked anything. Honor took the brunt of the family questions. _Hope you know that's true love, Josh_. His eyes then landed on Honor. She was giving her brother a calculating stare. Sometimes she really was too perceptive for her own good.

"What's wrong with you," she mouthed silently, but he brushed off her question, flicking his eyes back to his plate.

Logan felt a vibration from the phone in his pocket. He took it out as and looked furtively at the screen under the table. He kept his face flat, sliding the device back in his pocket once he finished reading. He looked up again at Honor, whose face had turned curious.

"...but I was able to spend time with the family at our home in Cannes."

"Oh, I just love the French Riviera, too. That's another place we'll have to make sure to add to our travel plans, Mitchum." Mitchum grunted out his assent again. Shira noted her husband's attitude and her eyes flashed in annoyance.

Shira sighed and turned again to Odette on her right. "Odette, darling, I mentioned it before, but I'm sorry you couldn't join us earlier this week. You're only here for a short time! I feel as if we have so much to do. I see so little of you as it is."

"I'm sorry Shira, it's just how it is with my job. I was going to see if Anna could meet, but she had left early for the holiday weekend, and so had many others. It just made sense to fly in yesterday morning so I wouldn't miss as much back home."

"Anna?" asked Shira.

"Anna Wintour, Mom. She's the editor of Vogue," interjected Honor.

"Oh, well then." Shira looked positively gleeful. " _Vogue_ , how lovely. Odette, you're just a wealth of knowledge. Tell me, know anything interesting about any people I may have heard of?"

"Well, there was this one time I was with Vera..."

Logan had wholly tuned out by now. He had no desire to hear about fashion designers or editors. He respected Odette's work and usually could listen to her experiences, but this last week he had with his father had taken a toll and he wasn't in a good mood.

Logan never saw himself as dating someone who worked in the fashion industry. Odette was brilliant and well-educated, and even more, she was incredibly ambitious even if it was in a field he didn't put much thought into at all. She wasn't superficial by any means, which is why he knew he got along so well with her. But they never spent a lot of time together.

They met initially at a benefit in London and danced once, only to find out later that their parents knew each other and had been meaning to get them to meet. She had about as much patience as he did for set-ups and family obligations, but they got on well enough, and they weren't completely bored of each other. At the next benefit, they stuck next to each other to fight off the other crazies that were invited. They ended up drinking too much that evening and falling into bed. They both agreed to let it be a simple arrangement. They called each other when they needed a date, spent the night in good company, then parted ways when they needed to. It was comfortable and fun. This began 5 years ago. Two years ago, their parents had noticed their arrangement and began to pressure them. By then it had morphed into a _thing_ without them realizing it.

He liked her, he really did. She was a great friend, and Lord knows he was in need of some friends. In some ways, he even loved her, though not in an entirely head-over-heels, passionate sort of way. He doubted he would ever feel that again, but that was over now. Odette, however, was safe. They rarely fought (though you actually needed to be in constant close contact for that, he supposed), got along well enough and generally enjoyed the company of one another. More importantly, it got their parents off their backs. And even more, she needed him sometimes. Logan thought it was nice to feel needed and valued. He didn't get much of that in his life. He just didn't know if she truly _wanted_ him.

"Well, that's just wonderful, Odette darling. You'll have to let us know how that goes, Logan." Logan heard his mother speak his name and nodded quickly at her. He had no idea what he just agreed to; he'd figure it out later. He looked across the table at Honor again. She gave him another calculating stare, but Logan just turned back down to his plate.

* * *

Logan knocked on the heavy door to his father's study and stuck his head through the crack.

"Hey, dad," Logan greeted hesitantly. As a child, he was taught never to disturb his father while the door was closed, as it typically meant his father was working on something important and needed no interruptions. When Logan grew older, the rule was lessened. But Logan still remembered his father's old instructions and never tried to bother his father, since Logan vividly recalled his father's harsh reprimands to his younger self.

Logan waited patiently for his father's acknowledgment, to see his father's eyes meet his own. Logan was schooled to never speak until given permission in this room, so that Mitchum could always mark his progress his work, ensuring nothing was lost. His father made on a note on his paper, his blue eyes finally lifting to meet his son's. "Odette mentioned earlier that you wanted to see me," Logan continued. "You begged off quite early from dinner to come in here to work."

"Oh yes, come on in and sit." Logan walked in and sat across from his father in the leather chair provided. He always hated this office; it was the location of many of Logan's dressing-downs growing up. After all this time, coming in here still made him feel small and disobedient.

"How is Odette? Everything alright between you two?" asked Mitchum after some silence, still firmly engrossed in his work.

"She's fine. She's gone up to bed since she has to fly out tomorrow and she never really got over the jet lag." Logan paused as he watched his Mitchum shuffle through papers on his desk. "So, I assume you want to talk about the Hong Kong deal. I already told you that -"

"No, I don't want to talk to you about that," Mitchum interrupted. "I wanted to talk about your situation with Odette."

"My situation," Logan repeated slowly, somewhat perplexed.

"I thought we've been over this." Mitchum stopped shuffling his papers and gave Logan a hard look. "When are you going to stop dicking around and finalize this Logan? Goddamit!" Mitchum pounded his fist on the desk, looking exasperated. "You're 33 years old. It's time to grow up. Do what is expected and make it official."

Logan groaned internally. He'd rather talk about the business than his relationship. He paused as he mulled over what he was about to say. "Dad, some things might've come up. There might be a slight change in the plan."

"A slight change?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Logan, any change is not going to be slight."

"I mean," Logan began, attempting to find some explanation to please his father. "Odette might not be as fine with it as she once was. And neither am I," he added, staring at his hands in his lap.

"Are you backing down on our agreement?" Mitchum eyed him critically over the desk.

"No, not exactly, just there might be an alteration of one of the terms. Recent events have made us contemplate one of the outcomes."

Mitchum sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Listen here. We want to announce this soon. We have things in the works already. You do realize that, don't you?"

"I do, dad. And so does Odette."

"I just think this can end in a way that can satisfy everyone, Logan," Mitchum said with a smile. Logan knew it wasn't because his father was happy. His father smiled because he thought himself so brilliant, that everything would work for the best, pleasing everyone. And most importantly, it was all his grand idea. But Logan knew from experience that his father did not always know best.

"Dad, I'm not sure your way will do that," Logan continued, growing defiant. "We need time dad. Can you give us that?" Logan pleaded, hoping he could make his father see reason.

Mitchum took off his reading glasses, threw them to the side and rubbed his eyes. He placed his elbows on the desk, throwing his head into his palms. "Fine Logan, have it your way," his father grumbled, running his hands through his slicked-back hair.

Logan sighed gratefully, but his triumph against his father was cut short. "I'm giving you to the end of the year," his father added, giving his son a hard stare. Logan attempted a rebuttal, but Mitchum was prepared. "That's final, Logan," he said in a hard voice.

"Whatever," Logan muttered but recoiled when he saw his father's glare. "I mean, thank you," he corrected, his tone deceptively thankful. Logan, realizing this battle was lost for now, stood up from his chair. He made his way to the door, grateful he had survived another discussion with his father. He'd be glad if he didn't have to see this room for at least another year.

He was almost out the door when his father asked, "where do you think you're going?"

Logan turned to him in confusion. "I was going to go up to bed. I'm still on London time, dad. Besides, I thought we discussed all that we needed to discuss."

"We're not through, yet. We have to go over the Hong Kong deal. Now sit back down," his dad instructed, going through his paperwork once more.

Logan's shoulders fell in defeat. He gazed wistfully out into the hallway, before closing the door and walking back to the desk. He sank into the chair with a sigh, longingly thinking of his warm bed upstairs. He was in for a long night.

* * *

Logan spent the following morning with his nephew, holed up in the old playroom he used to share with his sister. The room was almost frozen in time, seemingly unchanged from Logan's childhood. Posters from popular eighties films covered the walls, while Barbies and Hot-Wheels filled the bins on the sides. Benjamin sat on the old alphabet mat next to his uncle, bright mega-blocks scattered on the floor around them. The small boy clumsily tried to stack them together, but Logan had to help him connect the blocks, snapping pieces together when they threatened to fall. Logan enjoyed the time he spent playing with his nephew; it was time for him to unwind, to forget the stress of his job and life. And Honor was always thankful for her brother's help, as Ben enjoyed spending time with his uncle as much as Logan enjoyed watching him.

Logan yawned, the sound turning into a laugh as the boy boasted about his blockhouse. Logan was tired. He rose early, dropping off Odette at the airport for her flight. It was only a quick stay for her, as she needed to return to Paris and her work. She worked long days and enjoyed her job, but unfortunately, her vacation time was limited. Odette left the car that morning with a smile and a promise to talk again soon, before gracefully walking through the airport's sliding doors. Logan would miss her company, but he knew she'd rather be at home, doing what she loved.

Honor snuck into the room, watching her son and brother with a grin. Logan glanced back quickly and gave her a nod, before returning his attention back to his nephew and the boy's grabby hands.

"Finally got Charlotte to sleep. How's it going in here?" Honor asked, after watching the two play a few minutes.

"Well," replied Logan, his concentration remaining on their house building, "Obi-Wan and I are making a house. I think he's going to be a civil engineer sis."

"You're going to call him that name forever aren't you?" she asked with a roll of her eyes.

"Not my fault that you chose to name his after a Star Wars character, considering we loved the movies as kids." Ben stood up and gave the house a great kick. He giggled before his arms reached out, knocking down more blocks and destroying their progress, Logan watching his actions with mock despair. "Ben, what are you doing man? Oh well, it worked for a bit," he shrugged to Honor, chuckling.

"Just for that I hope you have a daughter named Sam, so I can constantly call you out on your Alyssa Milano and _Who's the Boss_ obsession," she teased back. Ben, through with the blocks, walked over to another toy bin and pulled out figurines. Logan stared at him, watching as the boy babbled nonsense with each doll he picked up.

Honor frowned, puzzled by her brother's lack of acknowledgment at her quip. "What's with you lately?" she asked, concerned.

"Isn't it obvious?" Logan asked with a scoff, looking back at his sister with a raised brow. "I'm back in this prison of a house, working for the company again, getting bombarded with questions from the parents from hell. This house always puts me in a mood; you know that."

Honor eyes narrowed as she studied her brother. "You're incredibly distracted, more so than usual. You're weird and introspective. And your behavior at dinner! You might as well had not been there. And then when you were asked anything, you were annoyed. You're practically ignoring Josh and me, only really paying attention to your nephew. And let's face it, he really is not that great of a conversationalist."

Logan sighed as he picked up the blocks and started to put them back in the bin. "It's nothing Honor; you're just overthinking things," he said. "As usual, I might add," he muttered under his breath.

"You forget I know you best out of almost anyone, save for a few people. Something is going on in your life, something new. Something that's bothering you. And I know it's not just the Odette situation or work."

"Seriously, I honestly don't know why you didn't study psychology instead." Logan didn't bother to hide the sarcasm in his reply.

There was a pause, then in a serious tone she asked, "who was the text from last night, Logan?"

Logan's hand stilled as he was putting a block in the bin. "Text? What text? I get tons of texts," he replied, glancing back at her before turning his attention back to the blocks.

"You never look at your phone during dinner. Mainly because it's always something about work and you can't be bothered. Someone is texting you," she added with an inquisitive look.

"Listen, I just ran into an old friend is all. They've been texting me. Just wanted to see what's up," he gave matter-of-factly.

"An old friend," said Honor flatly as she watched him close the bin for the blocks.

"Yeah." Logan stood and went over to the other bin to sit with his nephew. He grabbed some more figurines and started making fighting noises with Ben's figures. Ben laughed and joined in.

Honor observed them for a while, then once again her face morphed in thought. "Huh. Well, that definitely isn't a friend from your brigade group then. And it's not one of those floozies you pranced around with. It's not Odette, and if it's not a work colleague..."

Logan ignored her, instead speaking to Ben. "It's like watching Sherlock work, I swear little man."

"Woah, this must be really bothering you. You're on edge. The slight indication that I might figure it out has you testy."

Logan turned to her and responded in a stern voice, "leave it alone Honor. Now let me play Avengers with your kid."

Honor was slightly taken aback at his irritability then it dawned on her. "Oh no," she gasped, her voice laced with dread.

"What is it now?" he mumbled.

"Not this again."

"I honestly don't know what you're talking about, sis."

"It all makes perfect sense. The sullenness, the lack of all communication except for, well, with my three-year-old son that can't talk in full sentences. The complete aversion to anything to do with this family." Honor spoke faster with the more she realized.

"Stop talking in circles and say what you're going to say."

"Why is she back in your life again? When did you even see her?" she probed. Logan said nothing but continued to focus on his nephew. "I'm going to get it out of you one way or another."

"We met in June. You happy?"

"What, like a fluke? And no, by the way. I'm not."

"She was standing at a lake in Hamburg talking to her mother on the phone. She looked different yet the same. I had to say hi. We started talking. Now you know."

"So, you talk now."

"Yes. We talk."

Honor came up behind him and pinched his shoulder. "Ow, that hurt! What was that for?"

"You idiot! How could you be so stupid seeing her again?"

"I ask myself this every day," he said sarcastically.

"I was the one who had to pull you up out of your depression along with Colin and Finn. We had to force you to get on that plane. You were an absolute wreck. She's going to do that to you again."

"You don't know that, Honor."

"Logan, remember what's in store for you. This won't end well. Either one of you, or it might just be the both of you will end up a mess this time. And frankly, I don't know if I can watch that again."

"Thanks for your input. It's welcome as always," he muttered.

"Logan…" she said sincerely.

He gave a sigh and replied, "yeah, yeah. You hope I know what I'm doing." He turned to look at her and added solemnly, "I do, okay?"

The trouble is, this time he doesn't think he does.

 **AN:** I wrote about the interesting inclusion of the painting on my Tumblr (check it out if you want). Basically, I always found it noteworthy that the portrait they chose was in the Hutnzberger household.

As for the Huntzberger family, they play a large role in this story, too. I hope you can keep an open mind and trust where I'm going with them.

Thank you all for reading. My inbox is always open, here or on Tumblr.

This is an updated version of the chapter that was first posted in December 2016.


	5. Macallan

**AN:** Thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites.

I wrote a Christmas one-shot by the way, check it out if you'd like.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own this show nor do I own any scotch. I do however own this bottle of Jose Cuervo premade margarita sitting in the bottle next to me. (I blame all grammar mistakes on Jose FWIW)

 **Chapter 5 - Macallan**

London, England - Sunday, September 13, 2015

"Have I mentioned how much I just love the cinemas in England? They're awesome," said Rory as they walked through Logan's front door just after midnight.

"You have Ace, multiple times. Several times just on the way home," he laughingly replied, closing the door behind him and locking the door. He followed Rory into the downstairs kitchen, watching as she navigated his shelves for the coffee. She began to make herself a pot, her familiarity of the room not lost on Logan.

"I mean it. Seriously, how cool is it that you can bring in outside food like that? Well, you can do it at the _Black, White and Read_ Theater in Stars Hollow and it annoys Kirk, but the regular movies? Nope. But in British cinemas, it's a-okay. It's like having a movie night at home, just with new movies. Mom would love it."

He walked over to the cabinet to find a glass, then moved over to the sink to fill it up under the tap. "Yeah, they're pretty cool I'll have to admit," he said then took a drink, smiling at Rory as she continued to ramble.

"Plus they have the bar and oh! The pick-and-choose candy selection. No more giant boxes of just one type of candy. I can get anything I want. Did you notice people looking at what we brought in? I think we made some people jealous."

"I believe that they were amazed at the large pizza, two bags of Indian takeaway and three bags of candy we brought in for just the two us."

"Hey, they don't know what they're missing out on," she retorted, reaching behind her to grab a mug from the shelves. "Honestly, they're just amateurs. Going to see a movie is an experience that should be appreciated. Everyone should watch movies like us."

"Believe me Ace, once I was initiated into the 'Gilmore Way,' there was no going back," he said, setting his now empty glass in the sink. They stood there, leaning against the countertops opposite from one another, waiting for her coffee to finish brewing. They smiled softly at each other; both lost in memories of the movie nights they shared in their New Haven apartment. The coffeemaker dinged then, signaling that it was done. She turned around, filling up her mug before turning back around to lean against the counter. She closed her eyes and gave a contented sigh at her first sip. He walked over to her, gently grabbing her upper arms, rubbing them up and down before giving them a squeeze. "Not many of us have been lucky enough to be privy to a 'Gilmore Movie Night,' you know. They just need to have their eyes opened," he added, giving her a wink.

"You're right. We should make a PSA," she said somewhat seriously, the sarcasm hidden behind her grin. Logan turned to exit the kitchen, gesturing to her silently asking if she wanted to go up. She nodded and followed him up the stairs. Once he was in the living room, he emptied his pockets and took off his jacket. Rory set her cup down and did the same with her own coat and bag, picking the cup up again to sit on the couch.

"So you never told me," began Logan as he walked over to the bar table at the side of the room. "How was your visit to Stars Hollow? Did you end up seeing your grandparents?"

"Brief. Mom was busy with the inn and Luke himself with the diner. I mostly just hung out with Lane and the twins. Grandma and grandpa were out of town, again. I swear, ever since grandpa retired they are always moving."

"Well, they deserve it. Plus your grandparents actually like one another. Must be nice," he replied as he sat down next to her on the couch.

"Yeah, they are very sweet together." She smiled to herself thinking about them. "How was your visit back to the States?"

"Ugh," he groaned. "Let's talk more about Stars Hollow."

" _Lo-gan,_ " she whined. "You promised you'd tell me later in your messages. Well, buddy, it's later."

He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, shaking his head. "But I don't want to," he whined back into her collarbone.

"Poor baby," she teased. She patted his head then shrugged her shoulder to force him back up. "Seriously, though. How bad could it have been?" He shot her a look. "Well, I know Mitchum and Shira were probably their usual selves. But Josh and Honor were there right?"

He sighed. "Yeah, at least they were. Mom and dad were... well, you're right. Just about everything you'd expect. But it's always nice to see my niece and nephew. Ben is at the age now where I can really play with him, and he talks back. It's cool to watch his personality develop. Wish I could see more of it."

"Did you end up going to the Vineyard?"

"No. Unfortunately, it's undergoing some renovations. We were held captive in the prison."

"Poor Stan, all lonely scavenging out there on that big property," she joked, her smile falling as he stared at his coffee table. "I'm sorry you couldn't go out there. I know how much you love to go, especially now that you live over here."

"Yeah," he replied, glancing over at her. "That place holds some good memories."

She caught his look, feeling a bit uncomfortable at his slight reminder of their past visits. She got up awkwardly and pointed to her mug. "Hey, you got anything good I can add to this?"

"Yeah, look over at the bar. Should have something that meets your fancy."

She walked over and observed the contents, finally settling on some Bailey's. "Figured since it's a Saturday night, I can party a bit. Well, I guess it's Sunday now," she said, breaking the silence. She noticed the bottle of scotch of to the side. "Hey, look at you. Some things never change." She grinned to herself, picking up the bottle to read the label.

"What do you mean, Ace?" He turned around and gave her a questioning look.

"You still drink Macallan," she answered as she walked back.

"Have to, now that I live over here. I'm close to the source."

"You can take the Huntzberger out of high society, but can't take the high society out of him," she joked, dropping back next to him on the couch.

"I just happen to like decent scotch. There are some things in life worth their value, and I appreciate a glass of fine scotch."

"Wow, feels like I was magically transported back to Friday Night Dinners. Great Richard Gilmore impersonation," she quipped.

"Well, your grandfather is a wise man Ace. Guess that means I am too," he said. He chuckled and sipped again at his glass.

She kicked her shoes off then, bringing her feet up with her on the cushion. "Ugh, my feet hurt."

"You only have yourself to blame. You were insistent that we'd take the tube."

"It wasn't raining out and honestly, taking the tube for a night on the town is a classic London experience."

"I'm not surprised your feet hurt after all the walking on that pavement in those heels."

"Look at you, sounding all British. _Pavement_. I feel so uneducated saying sidewalk now. Logan Huntzberger, Mister Sophisticated," she teased.

He leaned down, setting his glass on the coffee table before turning to her. "Give me your feet."

"What?"

He crooked his head, giving her a smirk. "C'mon Ace, you know the drill. Give me your feet."

She smiled back at him, turning her body so she could set her feet in his lap. He grabbed one foot and began kneading the sole, further relaxing her. There was a contented silence, with Rory watching him as he focused on the task at hand.

"You know, I've missed this."

"What, foot massages?" he asked, sparing a teasing glance up at her.

"Well, yeah but... I don't know. Having you wait on me hand and foot I guess?"

"What? I don't think I ever did that," he replied, shooting her another questioning glance.

"No… I mean, I don't know. You were always very considerate. You always wanted to make sure I wasn't hungry, or if I was comfortable, things like that. It was nice," she said, grinning over at him.

He grinned back. "Well, I liked taking care of you." He switched to the other foot then, sometimes massaging her ankle and lower calf. "Can we change the subject now?"

"Fine by me."

"What is this?'" he asked, pointing to her wrist.

"What do you mean?"

"This, your bracelet. Is it new? I didn't see you wearing when we first met. But you've worn it every time since. I just don't remember you wearing jewelry all the time like that."

"Oh, yeah." She brought her other hand up to play with the object on her wrist. "I just was out with a friend shopping and bought a charm bracelet. Just liked what I saw."

He released her foot and reached for her wrist. "Charm bracelet, really? It's a swan. I didn't know you liked swans."

"Well, uh, I like swans. They're cool and stuff," Rory answered awkwardly, taking her wrist back and playing with the charm.

"So... you like swans?" he asked, amused at her reaction to his question.

She stopped playing with the charm and looked back up into his eyes, giving him a soft smile. "Yeah, I guess I do."

* * *

The shrill ringing of a cell phone broke the silence late Sunday morning, almost midday. Logan, who had Rory wrapped in his arms, tightened his hold around her middle and buried his face in her neck. "That's your phone Ace. It's ringing," he said sleepily into her ear.

Rory burrowed further under the duvet and back into Logan. "Mmm. I'm too tired to talk now. They can leave a message."

"Great," he replied, fully intent to settle back into slumber.

The ringing stopped. There was a moment of quiet before the ringing started again. Rory reached out to her side table, slapping haphazardly until her hand made contact with the device. Squinting at the screen, she brought it up to her ear to give a sleepy greeting. "Mom? Hey, what's goin' on? ...Mom?" Rory sat up then, alarmed at the voice on the other side.

Logan noticed the stiffness in Rory's posture and sat up as well. "Mom, just talk slowly okay?" Rory's eyes grew downcast then, picking off imaginary lint off the duvet. "Oh no, mom. I'm so sorry." He laid his hand on her back, rubbing circles in a comforting gesture, still unclear at what happened. "How's grandma doing?" Her eyes had turned watery at that point, with a few threatening to fall. "Yeah, I'm coming. I have to get some things together and get packed, but I'll be there soon. We'll figure things out from there... Yeah, I'll let you know when." She swiped at her eyes then, her voice slightly cracking as she said, "I know. I love you too. Bye." She put the phone down on the bed then, finally allowing some tears to fall. Logan continued to rub circles on her back, waiting for her to speak.

"Grandpa died last night," she said, staring straight ahead.

"God, Rory. I'm so sorry."

She turned towards him then, tears falling freely down her cheek as she looked him in a panic. "Oh god, he's really gone." She leaned into him, crying into his neck. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him letting her cry. They stayed like that for several minutes before Rory pulled harshly away, stating, "I've got to pack. I have to get a ticket. I need to get things together." She leaped off the bed, going into the living room. "Laptop where's my laptop? Dammit, I need my laptop,"

Logan had risen too, following her out. "Rory," he said in a calming voice. "I'll take care of getting you a flight. How about you focus on packing for now?"

"Right, okay," she replied, looking a little less harried. "I'll pack."

She gathered her things scattered around the apartment, as he focused on finding a flight. Finally, he called out to her in the other room. "Hey, the flight is all set for in the morning. First flight I could get out. You have everything you need so far?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Then why don't you sit down here on the couch? I'll go make you some coffee." She walked over and sat down, while he squeezed her shoulder as he walked past. "Be back soon," he whispered as he kissed the hair on her head. He returned a few minutes later, handing her a cup as he sat down next to her holding his own. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking about him. How much I'm going to miss him," she answered quietly.

"You two were very close. He adored you. You were his world; it was evident to everyone."

She took a long drink from her cup, staring into its contents when she said, "did I ever tell you about the time we went golfing?"

" _You_ went golfing? Voluntarily?"

She smiled to herself, lost in the memory. "Grandma set it up. I had just started Chilton, and we only had our first couple of Friday Night Dinners. Neither of us was very interested in going together. But it was the first time that the two of us really spent time together one on one. We had a lot more in common than we thought."

"And you two had fun?"

"Well, not the golfing part; I sucked. He was exasperated watching my attempts, not that I blamed him. But we talked about the gossip in the steam rooms, books... how I wanted to go to Fez."

"By then it just clicked, right?"

"Yeah, it did. I looked forward getting to see him more." She paused then, looking off to the side. "It wasn't too much later that he had his first incident. I was there."

"I didn't know that," he said, putting an arm around her side. She leaned into him slightly before she began to speak again.

"It was a Christmas party, and mom and grandma had a fight, so mom wasn't there. It was just their friends and me. He was agitated, and grandma was arguing with him at the table. He got up to mess with the thermostat, much to her dismay. He collapsed in the other room, and grandma found him. I had to see him like that. It was awful."

"It sounds awful."

"I never saw grandma act like that before, nor mom. I felt awkward not knowing exactly how to react. I didn't know how to help or comfort him, so I just sat next to his bedside and read _The Wall Street Journal_ and the _Financial Times_. Stupid, huh?" she sniffed, wiping her eyes a bit.

"I'm sure you being there was enough."

There was a pause before she whispered out, "I never said anything back then, but I was so angry at my mom."

Logan, confused, looked down at her and asked, "whatever for?"

"I thought that was it. I was angry that I wasn't going to have enough time to get to know him. Mom had kept us so far removed Hartford for so long that I hardly knew anything about my grandparents. And here I was just really discovering him for the first time, and he could have been taken away from me. I got over it, but it made me very grateful for the next seven years I had with him for Friday Night Dinners."

"I'm sure it did," he replied, rubbing her arm.

"The other time it happened right in front of me in lecture, but you know all about that."

Logan looked ahead, remembering how horrible that day was. "Yeah, I remember when that happened," he said soberly. It was the first time he really had to visit someone that ill since he became an adult. "I also remember going back to the house with you to grab his stuff to make him comfortable. I know he appreciated that."

"You even took a helicopter to meet me there."

"I did," he answered slowly, softly.

She lifted her head from his shoulder so she could look into his eyes. "I don't know if I ever really told you how much it meant to me that you were there."

"You didn't need to, Rory. I knew." He gave another kiss to her hair then, allowing her to burrow further into his side. She took a few deep breaths, exhaling a bit harshly. She sniffled before she began to speak again. "Since it happened before, I had a feeling it would happen again. You always know you can lose your grandparents. You expect it but still…"

"You never expect it. You're never ready for it."

"Yeah, I wasn't ready back then. Though I don't think I ever would have been ready."

They sat there for another minute not speaking. Once again, Rory broke the silence. "Both times I was there to watch him fall, but he was still okay when we went to help him," she began. She took a long pause before she added, "I'm really glad I wasn't there this time to see him just... not. Is that awful? God, what an awful thing to say." She started to cry again in earnest, shuddering against his chest. He pulled her into his lap then, hoping to bring her any sort of comfort.

"No, I don't think so," he answered. "Your last memory of you and him together could be the last goodbye or phone call you had. You won't have to remember him like that. I don't think anyone can blame you for feeling that way."

She cried for a bit longer, grabbing onto him. He reached around the back of the couch, looking for the throw he kept there. When he found it, he threw it around her shoulders and himself, trying to wrap her in safety. When her crying had settled again, she rested her head against his shoulder, allowing him to rub her back. She relished the peace he gave her at that moment, even under the circumstances. "I feel so sorry for mom and grandma. Grandma is going to be a wreck."

"They really loved each other."

"They did. It was so sweet to see them together at their second wedding like that. I only hope to be loved half that much at their age."

"Me too." They lapsed into another silence then, Logan cradling her against his chest, using one arm to stroke her hair. "So the flight leaves at ten tomorrow. I figure we'd aim to get at Heathrow at eight. We should be back in Hartford by dinnertime."

"We?"

"Yeah, unless of course, you want to go to Stars Hollow first? We don't have to decide now."

"You're coming with me?" She sat up then, looking questioningly into his eyes.

"Of course I am. You didn't think I would miss his funeral now, would you?"

"Logan, you can't come," she declared earnestly.

"Rory, I want to be there. Richard was a great man, and I admired him greatly. Plus, he was important to you. I have to be there."

"It will raise too many questions."

"So? I'll just come with my family."

"But how will you have heard about it? We can't arrive back in Connecticut together."

"I can say Honor told me."

"Logan, you can't come. Even if you did, I don't think I can pretend with you."

He frowned, confused at her statement. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if you're there, I will spend too much time with you. No one would believe we haven't seen each other in years. If anything, you not coming makes it easier on me."

He sighed, understanding her argument. "If you really feel that way, I won't come. But I'd still really like to be there."

"I know. Just... please, do this for me?" she pleaded.

He searched her eyes, looking for any uncertainty. He found none. "Anything, Rory."

* * *

Logan dropped Rory off at the airport the following morning, giving her one last hug and a kiss on her cheek. He asked her once again if she was sure she didn't want him to come; she assured him that she would be fine and she would see him again when she flew back. She spent the majority of her flight listening to the music on her phone, as she couldn't focus enough to read or watch the in-flight programming. She merely stared at the screen in front of her, showing the location of the plane on its journey and the countdown to facing the reality of the situation.

Luke was there to meet her at the airport. Roryflew into his comforting arms, glad that he was able to make it down to pick her up. He said little of her grandfather but talked a bit about how her mom was doing, and for that she was grateful. When they pulled up in front of her childhood, he went to remove her bags from the back of his truck. Her mom sat on the swing on the front porch, and Rory slowly got out of the car and made her way over to her.

"Hey, babe. How was your flight?" asked her mom as Rory sat next to her on the swing.

"It was okay." A few tears fell down her cheeks as she added, "I'm so sorry, mom."

"Hey," her mom replied, holding out her arms. "It's going to be okay." They fell against each other, mother and daughter drawing strength from their embrace. They stayed like that for quite a while, moving inside when Luke announced he had made dinner. Dinner was a somber affair, neither of the girls showing the appetites they were famous for.

"I figure tomorrow the two of us will go over to grandma's and help her plan," said Lorelai near the end of dinner.

"How is she doing?"

"Well, you know how your grandma is," replied Lorelai, smiling slightly as she looked up at Rory over the table. "Going slightly batty ordering the maid around. She claims she's fine and not to worry but…"

"You worry."

"Yeah. I just know she's in a lot of pain and has yet to really grieve. I just don't think it's fully hit her yet."

Rory nodded, thinking that it hadn't really set in for her either. They finished their dinner, Rory heading to bed early complaining of jet lag. Truthfully, she wanted to be alone, and she was thankful that her mom understood.

Lorelai and Rory set out for Hartford early the next morning, both rising early without complaint. Luke once again made them a full breakfast that they picked at, but ate enough of to last them until their next meal. Emily greeted them at the door, forgoing having the maid answer for her. Emily greeted Rory with a smile, telling her she was thankful that she was able to make it home so soon from overseas. "There's no place I'd rather be, grandma," Rory mumbled into her hair as they hugged. Emily kissed her cheek in appreciation then guided her into the house.

It wasn't long into planning that her grandma and her mom argued about flowers and caterers. Rory, who had had enough planning at that point, got up from the table looking for an escape. She doubted they'd notice she had left. She walked into her grandfather's study, closing the door behind her. She was surprised at the sudden onslaught of a smell so distinctly _him_ ; the mix of old books, cigars, scotch and the cologne he wore hitting her senses, bringing up memories of the time they spent together looking over books in this room.

Rory walked over to the chess set, remembering how she and Logan had packed it to bring to him that one time in the hospital. She saw the spines of some of the books she brought him too; anything she could bring to make him comfortable then. She saw his records off to the side, one still sitting in his player. She remembered how he had such an eclectic taste in music, definitely not something she expected from the stern man. She saw the _Chuck Berry: Live at the Fillmore Auditorium_ she bought for his birthday many years ago. She picked it up and smiled at the colorful cover. She remembered how happy he was to get it that year. She put it off to the side on his desk, hoping to put it on display when they had their reception.

Inspired, Rory walked back over to the bookshelves and searched. She first found Euclid's _Elements_ , remembering how he loved his puzzles. She set it next to the record, going back to find the next book. She then saw _Leaves of Grass_ , thinking of when he brought back a copy of it translated into Greek after a trip to Europe. He knew her so well sometimes. She had the book back at home, and she knew she'd have to look at it later. She gathered the objects in her arms, walking back out to the dining room to show her grandma and mom what she had chosen.

* * *

The week passed by in a blur and suddenly it was the day of the funeral. Rory supported her grandma throughout the service, as her mom had Luke to lean on. She kept waiting for her grandma to break but it never came. It wasn't until Rory was standing with her mom under the tree watching grandma say her final goodbye that Rory really cried since arriving back home. It finally hit her that she was saying goodbye.

She held steady on the car ride back to the house, but it wasn't too long into the reception that she holed herself in the pool house. She looked around, remembering how it was decorated when her grandfather lived here during the separation. What a weird time it was in her grandparents' lives. They finally got over their stupidity, reconciling that winter. She collapsed onto the couch, resting her head in her hands. The day had been exhausting, even if she had done nothing strenuous. She couldn't watch her mom with Luke anymore, either. She wished she had her own shoulder to lean on, someone to hold onto.

 _You could have had that, but you told him not to come_.

It was still a wise choice given the circumstances, but it didn't mean Rory didn't regret telling Logan no. She'd already seen Mitchum and Shira, retreating hastily into the adjoining room before they saw her. This week had been hard enough as it was, and not having him here was difficult. She looked around the room, remembering the one time he did comfort her here after Dean dumped her. He gave her a friendly shoulder to cry on while Finn reenacted his horrible rendition of _Passion of the Christ_. Logan was right; nothing seemed quite as bad after that performance. If only Finn were around to perform it for her now.

Rory again thought back to the funeral and how beautiful the service was. The objects she had taken from her grandfather's study added a nice touch to the table up front. She thought back to the picture they had chosen to display - it was one of her grandparents dancing at their second wedding. They looked so happy and so in love. Tears fell from her eyes thinking back to that day. How he insisted grandma should call him Bill for their first dance, how proud she felt to be his "best man" and stand up with him during the ceremony. And it was another day when Logan was there for her, though not exactly in same way as he was back at the Male Yale party and definitely not in the most innocent of ways either. Still, seeing her grandparents so in love gave her the courage she needed to approach Logan that night. She was glad she did because it gave her one the best experiences of her life, dating him. She would not be the woman she was today if she ignored her feelings for him back then.

God, what was she doing thinking of Logan at a time like this? It was the pool house she knew; all the times she had spent time with him alone when she lived there were clouding her brain. She just knew how much she wanted him with her now and it was messing with her mind. She needed to get out of this room and back out to the reception. She needed to follow her grandma around to make sure she was okay. She was only here for a few more hours until she had to leave again; she needed to be a good granddaughter in the time she had left.

* * *

Rory once again spent her flight back to England staring at the screen in front of her. It was amazing to her how such a long trip could pass by so quickly when one was so engrossed in their thoughts. She took one short nap as sleep did not come easy. When she arrived, Logan was waiting for her outside the security exit with a somber expression. She immediately dropped her bags at her feet when she reached him, throwing her arms around his neck while his wrapped tightly around her back. They didn't say much to each other; he asked her trivial questions like how her flight was and if she was hungry. He stopped by a restaurant for takeaway on the way back to his place, hoping he could get her to eat later. He shot glances over at her intermittently during the drive back, Rory trying to ignore his worried looks.

Rory was still lost in their thoughts as they returned to his house. She hadn't spoken much for days, instead had just settled into the recesses of her mind. Memories of her grandfather played on repeat like a home movie in her head, allowing her to remember all the special times she shared with him. When they arrived back at his home, Logan shooed her inside insisting that he'd get her luggage. She went upstairs into his bedroom, searching his chest of drawers for the pair of Yale sweatpants he kept around. She then found Logan's old Yale t-shirt, undressing and slowly but methodically putting on the lounge clothes. She walked back over to his couch, taking the blanket and throwing it around her form. He came up several minutes later, bringing the takeaway, some plates and some bottled water for the two of them. He sat down next to her, handing the items over so they could start eating. She mostly picked at the food, instead focusing more on the program on the tv he turned on for her earlier.

It wasn't until later when the plates and bottles were back on the table that Logan finally asked Rory about the funeral. She briefly described the setting and who showed up. She left out all moments of her breakdowns. She figured she actually did quite well in the public eye, but she definitely was not okay when she was alone. He was thoroughly interested in what she had to say, never probing too much, just allowing her to steer the conversation.

They stayed like that for hours on the couch, only getting up for some short breaks. When they came back to the sofa, they immediately went back to their earlier positions of comfort where Logan lent a supporting shoulder for Rory to lay against. He eventually retrieved his laptop to do some work, Rory still content to lean on him and watch the mindless programs on tv. That night as they went to bed, Rory almost forcibly attacked his lips. Perhaps Logan knew that deep down that Rory was looking for comfort, and if this was the only way he could give it to her, then so be it. Logan allowed her to take control at first, finally taking over when she let him. Rory tried to convey all of her feelings for him as they embraced, hoping she could show him how much his presence had meant to her during this time.

Rory fell into a deep rest, the exhaustion from the previous week catching up with her. Ensconced in his embrace, Rory let herself find peace for the first time in a week. She was unaware that Logan stayed awake long after, observing her in his arms, watching her as she slept. He wondered what she was dreaming about, if she really was going to be okay. He knew her better than she thought he did, and he knew she was struggling. His only hope was that she would allow him to support her in the long run.

* * *

Rory watched the rise and fall of his chest, looking for any change in the pattern. Various tubes were going in and out of his body, as the beeping of the machine in the background created a musical sense of normalcy in her head. She held his hand in hers, softly stroking the top of it with her other one. Every once in a while, she would rest her free hand over his heart, just to confirm to herself it was still beating.

"How are we doing this evening, Ms. Gilmore?" asked the doctor as he walked into the room.

She sat up straighter in the chair, surprised at the intrusion. "Oh, I'm doing as well as could be expected."

"And our patient? How's he doing?"

"Same. I'm hoping you'll tell me some good news, though."

"Well, let's see, shall we?" While he was getting out his stethoscope, he turned to her and asked, "did he have any more visitors today or was it just you?"

"He had some visitors earlier, but they couldn't stay long and left." The doctor nodded at her comment, then began to observe his patient. Rory watched as he methodically listened and probed, wishing she could read his mind. The lack of any actual information these past few days had driven her crazy with worry. After he was finished, he took out his pen and began to write in his chart.

"Well doc, how is he?" she asked, hoping he'd tell her something good.

The doctor took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He sighed as he replaced them, giving her a sober look. "I won't lie to you, Ms. Gilmore. He was in a very serious accident. There hasn't been much change. We just have to wait and see." Not the news she was hoping for. The doctor continued, telling her about things to expect, but it was far too technical for her. All she cared about now was good news, and she didn't hear any. She looked back down at his face, hoping he'd just open his eyes, even if only briefly.

"We'll run some more tests in the morning, Ms. Gilmore. For now, you can just be here with him. Get some rest yourself." She glanced back at the doctor and nodded. He gave her a small, sad smile and left the room. She dropped back into the bedside chair and cried.

Morning came, and she left his bedside to get breakfast in the cafeteria. As she made her way back upstairs holding a bagel and coffee, she noticed the flurry of activity down the hall towards his room. The panic in the workers worried her. She realized that they were rushing into _his_ room. She set her breakfast down on a nearby surface and hurried down the hallway, hoping to find him okay. She was almost to his room when a nurse stopped her and said, "Ms. Gilmore, you can't go in there."

"Is he okay? What's going on? Why can't I see him?" She grew even more concerned at the sad look on the nurse's face. She tried moving again, but the nurse forcibly held Rory from running past her.

Rory looked over the nurse's shoulder, shocked to see Logan's immobile body lying flat on the bed. The beeping of the machines had stopped. The sad look on the doctor's face as he looked out at her told her that her worst fears had been realized. She collapsed into sobs, the nurse holding her upright as Rory's world fell apart.

* * *

Rory woke harshly and sat up quickly, panting at the realness of her dream. She looked down at Logan sleeping next to her; he hadn't noticed her fitful sleep nor was he awake. Good, at least her panic didn't alert him. She waited a bit to calm down, hanging her head in her palms. Weird how that memory came back now of all things. The first part was almost a replay of Logan's stay in the hospital after his accident. The second part of the dream - well, that was all new. He was okay, obviously. But why did her brain create that scenario for her, especially now? Sure she had her own nightmares of that same situation occurring while he was still in the hospital bed, but nine years later was a little odd. Her breathing and heartbeat eventually slowed, allowing her to focus on the present. She picked up her phone at her bedside, noting that it was half past four.

She couldn't sit in bed anymore. She had to get up and do something. She looked over at Logan one last time, gently stroking the side of his head. The dream just felt too real. She grabbed the shirt off the floor, throwing it around her shoulders before making her way to the bathroom. Once she was finished, she stood in the doorway, looking back over at Logan in the bed. She wasn't ready to close her eyes again, the memory of his lifeless body still playing on repeat. She glanced down to her left, noticing the bar table he kept there. Maybe she could have a drink to calm herself down, some of his scotch perhaps. It worked for him often enough.

" _That is a fine drink indeed."_

The memory of her grandfather's words at the dinner they shared with Logan surprised Rory. Not a remarkable quote by any means, but odd how it stuck out to her after all this time. She shook her head, thinking maybe an alcoholic drink wasn't the wisest choice. She'd go downstairs and find something there.

She walked into the kitchen, going quickly over to the cabinet to grab a glass. As she held it under the tap, she thought back to all the small things her grandfather had said over the years. Seemingly inconsequential statements at the time, but holding so many memories for her. Especially any banter involving her grandmother and him together. She leaned against the counter, thinking about her grandma. She swore she was okay when she left, but Rory knew she was hurting. Rory couldn't even imagine the pain she was going through, losing the love of her life like that. They were together since her grandpa was at Yale. Such a long time to remain together. She thought back to the Yale visit he guided her on, and how she learned so much about how the two of them began their relationship there.

" _And then he'd talk about the paintings he had seen in Paris and the colors of Titian, and by the end of the date, you thought he was the most brilliant man in the entire world."_

" _You shouldn't tell them this. They'll think I was some kind of lothario."_

" _Well, you were."_

" _I was just a young single man who wanted to experience life."_

Rory smiled, thinking how carefree the two of them had been back then. Hard to imagine her sweet grandfather as a lothario, though; he was anything but to her. She remembered how her mom told her never to fall for that line and how she had promised she wouldn't. She thought back to the man sleeping upstairs. _Guess I broke that promise_ , she thought. Strange to think how similar her grandfather and Logan could be. They both loved their jokes and pranks too. Grandpa did help her get Logan back after he pulled that stunt in the classroom. It was still one of the funniest moments she shared with him, even if he encouraged their relationship from then on.

" _Now I don't want to be too forward, but you made a handsome couple."_

What would her grandpa say if he knew what she was doing now? She didn't want to think about it. She knew it would disappoint him, the way she was acting recently, but maybe he would understand. He was dating someone else when he met grandma. Maybe this way she could find her way back to Logan? It was too soon for her to be thinking long-term, but she had been thinking for a while that she needed to break up with Paul.

But what _was_ she doing here? They had no future, not really. He lived here in London, her in New York. He was seeing someone else. They were content in their lives before they met. Then, _this_ all happened. She thought back to her grandma, how distraught she was to lose the love of her life; how lost she was facing a life without him. She hated herself for thinking all she wanted was Logan to hold her during the funeral and the reception. She hated especially how every thought of her grandfather seamlessly blended into a memory about Logan and how similar she found the two to be now. It never occurred to her back then, but now it was all she could think about.

She set her glass in the sink, sighing to herself. She went up the stairs, fully intent to lay next to Logan again and get some precious more hours of sleep. At least she could rest somewhat well in his arms. At the top of the stairs, she paused to stare over at Logan in bed. He was still fast asleep - how oblivious he was to the battle currently raging in her soul!

" _The people that you meet there will stay with you for the rest of your life, mark my words."_

She shook her head again, thinking how prophetic her grandfather's words were at the time considering her current predicament. Maybe she shouldn't go back to bed. She didn't want another terrible nightmare like the one earlier. She shuddered, remembering his lifeless body and how helpless she felt looking at him. It was definitely a feeling she never wanted to feel again.

She walked over to the couch with a heavy heart, deciding against going back to bed and into his arms. Her mind was too busy swirling with memories. She had a lot to think about.

* * *

Logan woke early Sunday morning, reaching over to wrap his arm around Rory lying next to him, only to find empty sheets. He opened his eyes, surprised to see the sheets thrown back. He sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes to remove the crust and allow him to focus. He glanced around his apartment, spotting Rory sitting on the couch. "Morning, Ace," he said gruffly. He wasn't sure she heard, so he added, "how are you feeling this morning?" Still no response. It was then that he noticed she was fully dressed and staring at the wall, oblivious to him. Concerned, he grabbed the pants at the side of the bed and walked over to her.

"Ace? How are you doing this morning?" He asked with a hand on her shoulder.

Rory didn't look away from the wall. "Huh?"

Logan understood her reaction. He knew she was deep in thought and still in shock over her grandfather's death. He sat down next to her, grabbing her hand. "Rory, are you okay? How long have you been sitting here?"

"Oh, uh. I don't know. I guess awhile. Couldn't sleep." She took her hand back then, rubbing her hands over her knees in a nervous gesture.

Logan frowned, noticing how she wouldn't look at him.

"Are you going somewhere? I wasn't aware you had any appointments today, just some tomorrow. Pretty early for you to be all dressed on a Sunday."

"Oh yeah. About that. Something came up. I need to go," she replied in a monotone voice.

"Go? Go where?" he asked, growing more confused at her behavior.

She looked down and played with the ends of her shirt, still not looking at him. "Change of plans actually, I need to get leaving." She got up then, walking past him without a glance.

"Well, do you need a ride?" he questioned to her retreating form.

"No," she answered as she walked over to his bedroom. "I'm just going to grab a cab." It was then Logan noticed her luggage packed at the side of the room. She was extending the handles, getting ready to leave.

"Rory, wait. Are you leaving now?" He got up from the couch and took several steps toward her.

"Yeah, like I said," she answered while putting on her coat. "Something came up, and I need to go."

"Rory, I'm concerned. Stay, talk to me. I know you're hurting and I completely understand. It's always hard losing a someone you lo…"

"STOP!" she yelled out, finally looking over at him.

Logan was taken aback. "Rory?"

"Stop. Just stop, Logan," she said back in her normal speaking voice, though it was filled with anguish. "I need to go, and I don't need you to give me a ride. Now like I said - I have somewhere I need to be."

"Well, when are you coming back? I know we talked about two weeks from now when..."

"No. I'm not coming back."

Logan was distraught now, wondering what was happening. "Rory," he pleaded, hoping to get her to stay and calm down some.

"This was a mistake, Logan."

"What, staying with me?"

"No, doing this. Seeing you. It should have never happened. We should have just greeted each other in Hamburg and gone on our way."

"Rory, you don't mean that, surely."

"Don't tell me what to think," she chided harshly, fixing him with a glare.

"I'm not trying to tell you anything. I'm just saying that I know this is a difficult time for you. I want to be there for you."

She ignored his comment. "I'm going. Please don't contact me." She picked up her last bag, slinging the strap over her shoulder.

"Rory," he pleaded again, hoping she would change her mind.

"Logan, I mean it." She dragged her suitcase behind her, walking over to the staircase. She turned around one last time. "This is over. Don't contact me," she said in a hard voice. She set the key he gave her on the small table, sparing him one last, sad glance. "Goodbye, Logan," she said softly, almost whispering.

He watched her go down the stairs, following her head as it disappeared. The slam of his front door echoed the sound of his heart breaking. A lone tear fell down his cheek, as he realized that his future once again left with a sound of a door closing.

 **AN:** Keep in mind, only chapter 5 out of 32.

Thank you for reading.

This is an updated version of the chapter that was originally posted in January 2017


	6. The New York Times

**AN** : Please note I've upped the rating.

Just to reiterate this point again - I'm changing some things in the revival to fit my story. The main points will be covered. Just keep that in mind as you go on.

Thank you for your reviews, follows and favorites.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing but a lot of coffee cups.

 **Chapter 6: The New York Times**

New York City - Friday, October 16, 2015

"... and it really is a multi-platform endeavor. They hope that it will draw in more users to their services and in turn, it will ensure its longevity."

Rory and Paul walked back to her place early Friday night after going out for dinner, holding hands as they navigated the urban streets. He took her to some Mexican-Japanese fusion restaurant that he heard was incredibly popular in her neighborhood. Thanks to her exploratory palate, she agreed to give it a try. The food was okay but it actually just reminded of her of Al's Grab Bag nights in Stars Hollow. Paul spent their walk back talking about something business or tech related; she didn't really know which, perhaps both. He lost her a while ago with his descriptions, so she just nodded and pretended as if she understood.

"Sounds neat," Rory replied, nodding once more.

"It is. I'll have to show you sometime." He paused, noticing she had stopped walking. "Oh, I see we're here at your door."

"Yep, this is me."

Paul looked down at her with a broad smile. "I had a nice time tonight Rory. It was good to see you again."

She smiled back. Paul really was a nice guy. "Yeah, you too Paul."

"I do have to be somewhere tomorrow so we can just call it a night now if that's okay. We'll have to do this again. It's so hard to meet up with you when you're traveling all the time."

"Well, you know how things are with work. I'll let you know when I'm around again."

"Great! Then text me whenever." He leaned down to kiss her. Rory urged to herself to feel something, but nothing came. It wasn't a bad kiss, but she knew there was no passion there. He drew away and smiled. "Bye Rory," waving goodbye as he stepped away.

"Bye Paul. See you."

Rory entered her walk up, going slowly up the stairs to her dingy, small apartment. She closed the door, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. She had a nice enough time, but she was grateful the night was over. She threw her handbag and coat on the couch on her way over to the kitchenette, beginning to make herself a pot of coffee. While it brewed, she went into her bedroom to undress. She changed into a pair of leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt, picking her laptop off her bed. She transferred the laptop onto her couch, walking over to grab a cup of the now brewed coffee.

Coffee in hand, she walked back into her living room to sit down. She looked around her apartment, thinking how sad it was she was sitting here bored on an early Friday night. Her social life was practically non-existent. Just the last week she had turned thirty-one, forgoing a celebration in Stars Hollow claiming she had work. She wasn't in the mood to celebrate anything lately, and neither was her mother, so thankfully Lorelai didn't question her. That evening, she drank a bottle of wine by herself in this apartment since she couldn't be bothered to go out on the town even with local friends to celebrate.

What was with her? Was this how sad and pathetic her life had become lately? If only her high school self could see her now. Granted she was quite the school nerd in high school, but she still had a pretty decent social life.

Thinking of high school made her think of Paris and how she was doing lately. Grabbing her iPhone out her bag, she looked at the time. It was only nine o'clock - still early. She scrolled down to Paris' name and hit the green call button.

"Hey Gilmore, to what do I owe the pleasure," Paris answered in her usual way. Rory could hear her typing in the background.

"Hi Paris, how's it going?"

"Eh, not bad. I was just going over some paperwork for work. Now, what's the problem?" Rory was used to Paris' often snappy behavior, so she didn't think twice about her brusque question.

"Oh, there's no problem. I was just in town for the week and was wondering if you wanted to see each other tomorrow," Rory asked hopefully. "That's if you don't have plans already," she rushed out, trying not to come off too desperate.

"Actually, I'm free as a bird. Why don't we grab dinner? There's this new place I've been dying to try, and I'm in need of some stimulating conversation. The drones I hire at work are not the most intellectual."

Perfect, just what Rory needed! A night out with Paris was sure to give her some entertainment. "Sure, that sounds great! Where should I meet you and Doyle?"

"Doyle is out of town this week, so it's just going to be the two of us. This is even better because I'm low on my monthly quota of girl-time. So why don't you swing over here first and we'll leave from here. Say 6:30?"

"I'll be there," she smiled, thinking to herself how easy this conversation went.

"Great. And Rory, wear something trendy. I want to make sure that it looks like we belong." Rort rolled her eyes. Yep, definitely a regular night out with Paris.

"Will do Paris, see you then."

Paris hurried out a goodbye and hung up her phone. Rory sighed, at least she'd have something to do tomorrow. Seeing Paris was always an experience. She put her phone down and wondered what to do now. She settled on bingeing some more episodes of _The Office_ on her laptop.

Hours later, she was at the point where Jim and Pam had their long distance relationship while Pam was in art school. She understood Pam's sadness over all the missed calls and missed texts, knowing how hard it was to keep a relationship that way. She looked over at her bag, digging out her Android phone. She unlocked it, her finger hesitant over the green WhatsApp icon. After some internal debate, she opened up the app, quickly opening up her recent messages from Logan before she could psych herself out of doing so.

She slowly read through the messages they exchanged, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she reread the jokes and banter they tossed back and forth. She finally got to the last few messages; Logan told her that he'd be thinking of her at the funeral and to have a safe flight back. She thought back to their last conversation, how hurt he looked when she told him not to contact her. Well, he indeed listened because it had been radio silence since then. _Good,_ she reminded herself. This was the way it had to be. She exited the text message, going back to the list of messages on the main screen. She looked at his profile picture - he seemed happy. She had a feeling it was from a night out with his friends. His status just said "away," nothing she could glean from that.

She felt tears come to eyes as she studied his picture. Disgusted with herself, she exited out of the app and threw her phone to the other side of the couch. She made her choice; she didn't need to add any regrets. She looked back at the Netflix screen, deciding against watching any more of _The Office_. _The Walking Dead_ sounded like a much better option right now.

* * *

Rory rang the doorbell at 6:35, Paris throwing open the door. "You're late," she greeted, turning back around not waiting for Rory to respond.

"By only five minutes. Relax, Paris. Hello."

"I made reservations, so we have to be on time." Paris turned to her as she put on her coat. "I'm glad you listened and dressed trendy."

"Yes, I do know how to dress myself after all these years." Rory looked at the black dress Paris wore. "By the way, you look great. That dress looks splendid on you."

"Not that I'm looking for validation, but thank you. Always nice to know I look hot." Paris turned away, walking to her kitchen. Rory rolled her eyes and followed. Paris stopped to talk to the nanny, before leaning down to kiss her two children on the cheek as they ate their dinner. "Both of you be good. I'll be back later." They said their goodbyes with full mouths, Rory smiling as she thought how this would be something she would never even imagine years ago. Boy, how things change. "Alright, let's go." Rory waved goodbye to the nanny and the kids, following Paris out the door.

The two of them made small talk on the cab ride to the restaurant, Paris discussing some event that had happened at work. Rory was in awe once they stepped inside the building after the brief trip. Paris was right - this restaurant she had chosen was undoubtedly trendy. After they ordered and their drinks had arrived, the discussion quickly turned to Rory's life.

"How's work? Got any articles coming out?''

"A few in the works. Work, is you know, work. It's okay," said Rory with a positive tone.

Paris looked over the rim of her glass with raised eyebrows. "Okay, I'll ask again. How is the writing going? Serious answer this time, please. You know don't have time for bullshit."

Rory sighed, knowing that she couldn't get anything past Paris. "It's difficult sometimes, but that's the life of a freelancer. It has its highs and lows. I have busy periods and down periods. I just happen to be in a down period."

Paris nodded, seemingly okay with her response. "So what have you been doing recently other than work."

Rory fingered the bar napkin, struggling to think of anything to tell her. "Oh, um, I went out with Paul last night."

"Really?" Paris scoffed. "Did you fall asleep from boredom?"

"No Paris. I had a nice time."

"Please, that guy is more boring than that puppy you dated back in high school."

"He's not that boring. And Dean wasn't a puppy," Rory added.

"Alright, tell me something interesting about him then." She crooked her head to the side, giving Rory a thoughtful look.

Surprised by the question, Rory tried to come up with something to tell her quickly. "Um, well he's, uh."

Paris raised her eyebrows again, not entirely shocked by Rory's flustered attempt to answer. "See you've already proven my point. How long have you been dating him again?"

"A year, maybe? And you didn't give me enough time even to answer you!"

"You've been dating this guy for a year, and you can't even come up with one interesting thing about him."

"We just don't get to see each other that often. You know how I travel," Rory replied as if it explained everything.

"Well, there must be something keeping you in that relationship. How's the sex?" Paris asked matter-of-factly.

"Paris!" exclaimed Rory, shocked by Paris' indifference to the personal question.

"That bad, huh?" she snorted.

"We are _so_ not having this discussion."

"Your salads," said the waiter standing at their table. Rory murmured thanks as he placed the plates in front of them.

"Did I not ask for my dressing on the side? Then what is this avalanche of sauce currently covering every green thing on my plate? Take it back!" she told him. After he had walked away, she turned to Rory, "imbeciles, how hard is it to follow simple instructions?"

"This is how people spit on your food, Paris."

"I hope they do cause I'd call the health agency on their asses. Don't change the subject, Gilmore."

"What subject?" Rory's eyes were big, confused about what she was talking about.

"We need to talk about this bad sex you're having now."

"Oh my god, I'm not drunk enough for this conversation." Rory took a sip from her martini, hoping for the alcohol to help her _and soon_.

"I think you need to go back to the guy you were seeing. You were having good sex then."

Rory threw her hands up in exasperation. "What guy, Paris? What are you even talking about?"

"The one that you were recently seeing that you must not be seeing anymore. Could be adding to this weird funk you seem to be in lately."

Rory paused. Perhaps Paris paid more attention to her than she thought. There was no way Paris could have known about Logan. She knew Lane wouldn't have told her. "I don't know where you're getting your information from, but there wasn't another guy. "

"Well, you must've been getting good sex somewhere cause it definitely wasn't coming from puppy boy."

"You just see things you want to see. Besides, how would you even know I was getting good sex like you so claim?"

"Listen, look at what I do. It's part of my job to know about sex. I know if people are having it and even if it's bad or good." Her face turned serious again, leaning across the table towards Rory. "Anyway, we need to get back to the point. Why are you even dating him? You can't possibly tell me you see a future with him. You're just stringing him along."

"I've told you. Paul's a nice guy, Paris." She felt as if she needed a recording of this with how often she had to repeat it to her friends.

"And you're Rory Gilmore, my high school rival. You deserve someone who can keep up with you, someone who challenges you. I personally know plenty of single doctors to set you up with. And I've been told by my friends that have dated them that they're quite good in the bedroom."

"Oh man, I did not see the night going like this," she said mostly to herself, holding up her glass and polishing off her first martini.

"I have plenty of tips I can give you too. Doyle and I have been on this whole tantric sex thing lately, and it's really spiced up our life. I was hesitant to do anything Sting suggested but maybe I should listen to Hollywood rockers more often."

Rory knew the other tables were listening in. Paris was making no effort to quiet her voice. Just great. "I can't believe it. I'm living my own _Sex and the City_ moment."

"I can set you up with someone soon. Trust me Gilmore; you have a lot to offer. You've got the face of an angel and the mind of Hillary. Now tell me, would you be averse to dating a gynecologist?" she asked, oblivious to Rory's embarrassment.

The waiter arrived back at the table with Paris' corrected salad. "I'm going to need another martini," Rory told him, holding up her empty glass with a frazzled look.

* * *

Rory walked down the stairs of Paris' townhouse the next morning, rubbing her face and groaning at her headache. The dinner became only more uncomfortable as it went on, and she drank at least three martinis. At least Rory only remembered three. Not the smartest decision she had made lately, and she was paying for it this morning. Paris had her stay the night, giving her the guest bedroom, worried that her friend wouldn't make it across the bridge to "hipster haven."

"Morning Rory," greeted Paris in the kitchen, too loud for Rory's taste. Rory grunted in reply, sitting on a barstool. "I made you a high fiber, high protein breakfast to help get you moving and feeling better. Eat up; it's good for you," she said as she slid the plate in front of her.

Rory frowned at the eggs and green glob of _whatever_ on the plate before saying, "I think I'll just have coffee."

"Suit yourself," Paris replied, quickly pouring her a cup. Paris studied her as she took a sip, a contemplative look on her face. "How are you feeling this morning?" Rory shot her an irritated look and Paris rolled her eyes as she sat down on the barstool next to her. "Well, I know that. I am just worried about you."

"I assure you that I am fine," she replied, not sparing her another glance.

"Are you? Hmm," Paris trailed off, eating from her own plate. She took several bites and chewed before saying, "so you kind of blew off the work question last night. What's going on?"

Rory looked out across the counter to where Paris' copy of today's _New York Times_ sat. Paris followed her gaze before turning a concerned look back to her. "Look, I know that you didn't get the Reston, and your job with Hugo was way too short, but you still can do this. There are still tons of things to write about."

"It isn't that simple," Rory sighed. "Everything I get is incredibly dull."

"Okay, I know I haven't done this in a while, but you need it." Paris turned in her barstool, giving Rory a stern look. "As your former editor at the _Franklin_ , I'm here to tell you that you can do it. Lots of things in life are dull. Make these things not dull, make them exciting. You of all people can do that. Get your name out there. If you're giving up now, well - you're not the girl I fought with for three years at Chilton."

"You make it sound so easy," said Rory with a sardonic grin. "Don't you think I haven't tried?"

"So? Try harder. You have to work your ass off. Publish as many articles as you can in _Slate,_ _Politico, The Atlantic, The New Yorker_ , any publication that will have you. Write essays, maybe find something to write a book about. Make yourself so popular that the _Times_ will be begging to have you. And wouldn't that be the biggest win of all since they said no to you first?"

Rory chuckled softly to herself, giving her a grin. "I know I can always count on you to give me the kick in the pants that I need."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Paris smiled back before turning down to her plate.

Rory watched her before looking around the beautiful kitchen. She loved this house. It fit the four of them so well. She sat deep in thought for a moment, taking a few sips from her cup and trying to eat a bit of the egg on her plate. "Paris," she began hesitantly. She waited for Paris to look at her before she continued, "are you happy?"

Paris gave her a bewildered look. "What do you mean? Please tell me you're not going Oprah on me."

"No, just," Rory began, shaking her head as she rephrased. "Are you happy with how things have turned out?"

Paris shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so."

"Did all you wanted to do?"

Paris frowned. "Where's this coming from? Yes, but I still have a lot more I want to do. I'm not dead yet." Paris dropped her fork on her plate when she realized what she said. She put her hand on Rory's arm and said apologetically, "hey, Rory. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"It's fine, Paris. Really."

"How's that going?" asked Paris concernedly.

Rory exhaled before murmuring, "it's been hard, but it wasn't too terribly shocking." Paris rubbed her arm before going back to finish her meal. Rory reached across the counter for the _Times_ , desperate to change her mind to something else. She separated it out, finding a section she wanted.

"Hey, give me that section," said Paris reaching over to grab one she had laid out. "I need to read the announcements."

"I didn't take you as someone to read these. They'd make you too happy," she added with a smirk.

"Hey, this is me scouting out potential clients," Paris replied, opening up the paper.

"Really?"

"Yes. Wealthy couples, the older ones in particular, are my target demographic. They typically are in need of my services. It helps not to be surprised when they show up." Rory shook her head in quiet laughter. After all these years Paris never failed to surprise. Rory returned to her own section, reading about the ongoing Syrian Civil War.

"Heh, will you look at that," Paris snickered. "Looks like Huntzberger got himself engaged, to a French heiress, no less." Rory stopped reading, looking over to Paris. "How royal," Paris smirked as she glanced up at her.

Rory said nothing but looked over at the paper in her friend's hands. She briefly caught the image of Logan and a woman she didn't know before she turned her gaze back to her own section. Rory tried to return her focus to Assad and Putin, but Logan's smiling face kept flashing before her eyes.

* * *

Rory slammed the door to her apartment, stopping just inside the threshold to take one last look at the announcement before throwing the paper on her coffee table. She bought her own copy of the _Times_ at a newsstand on the way home, then proceeded to reread the passage over and over again on the subway ride back to Brooklyn. Rory had it memorized by now, the image of the two of them smiling together burned in her brain. She stomped over to the kitchenette, messily making herself a pot of coffee. She pressed the power button, her fingers tapping on her legs. She couldn't just stand here and wait for it to finish. Her mind was too busy.

Rory felt gross. Gross, hungover, dirty and ugly all at once. She stripped quickly on the way to her bathroom, turning on the tap and waiting for the water to heat up. She got in, happy to at least wash the mess of the previous day off.

As Rory washed her hair, she wondered why Logan never mentioned how serious his relationship with this woman was. Didn't he tell her back in June that he would break it off with this woman and she brushed him off? That this arrangement Rory suggested was all okay for now? He made it seem like he wasn't all that happy. Boy, did he have her fooled? She thought back to her last few visits with him, how real it all felt. How easy it was for them to fall back into old routines and how happy the two of them were together. She almost brought it up before her grandfather died, thinking they needed to discuss what exactly it was they were doing. She thought to when he was in this apartment with her, remembering how he looked on her couch, in her shower, in her bed. How natural it all felt and how a smile would tug at her lips when she thought back to seeing him in her sheets.

She frowned as she washed out her hair, the frown slowly morphing into a look of anger. How stupid she was, how naive. What a _big, fat liar_ this man was.

She turned off the water and hastily dried herself off before tying the towel around her chest. She walked into her room and stared at her reflection in the floor length mirror she kept there. She untied the towel, letting it drop to the ground. She studied her body, comparing herself to the woman in the photograph.

The woman was beautiful, model-like. She had an angular face, unlike the round, baby face Rory still possessed after all this time. She looked at her chest - the woman definitely had her beat there. She had no freckles, no mole on her right cheek, just perfect, alabaster skin. Rory turned to her dresser, pulling out clothes and slowly putting them on. She walked back to the kitchenette to pour herself a cup of the now brewed coffee, hoping that it would help calm her down. She picked up the paper from the coffee table, hating herself for wanting to reread it.

An heiress, how freaking perfect. Just what the Huntzbergers always wanted for their precious son. An ideal woman, one who would quickly settle into the role as a perfect society wife. How wonderful for them. She bet Shira was thrilled. But Rory won, right? She had her career, her wide-open doors, her exciting, wonderful, suitcase-always-packed life?

Her wonderfully slow, floundering career in her stinky, shitty Brooklyn apartment and her relationship with boring boyfriend Paul that was going nowhere fast.

Yes, she was living the dream.

She stared again at the paper before throwing it in the bin in disgust. She couldn't stand to look at that font anymore. In fact, she would be happy never to see it again. But she knew as she left her apartment the next morning that the front page would taunt her all the way to her destination. There would be no escape; it would always be there to mock her, just to prove to her that she just wasn't good enough in her career or her personal life.

Her eyes landed on the swan charm bracelet on her dresser. She had taken it off when she returned from London the last time, forgetting to put it back on her wrist. She picked it up and angrily threw it at the opposing wall with a yell. The bracelet clanged against the wall before disappearing into the mess of crap she had piled in the corner. Wiping angry tears from her cheeks, she fell into bed, drawing the covers over her head, hoping to forget everything about the last few months.

* * *

On Monday afternoon, Logan read over the papers on his desk while eating his sandwich, a usual lunchtime routine for him, when his mobile rang in his pocket. "Huntzberger," he answered distractedly, not caring to look at the caller ID.

"So you actually did it," Honor greeted angrily.

Logan sighed, sitting back in his chair. "Hello to you too, sis," he said sarcastically.

"Were you ever going to tell me you got engaged?" she questioned.

"We were really not looking to announce it."

"I didn't think you'd actually go through with it," she replied, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Well, I did. Dad was right; it was time for me to grow up."

Logan could picture his sister now – rolling her eyes and huffing at his words. "And this was how you wanted to do it."

"It's not that bad you know," he countered.

He heard her sigh on the other side before she continued, "I like Odette, I really do. I just - I don't think you've thought this through."

Logan gritted his teeth in irritation. "Well I have - we both have. We're going into this eyes opened. We both know what's happening here." How dare she insinuate otherwise? She had _no_ idea.

"But Logan, there's so much more to it than just the 'I dos,'" she pleaded.

"Don't you think we know that?"

"I just - I think back to how you supported me when I announced things with Josh and how wonderful you were back then, and I want to do the same for you," she entreated. "I only want to help you."

"The circumstances are entirely different, and you know it."

"Are they really, though?"

"Don't be naive, you remember what happened then," he answered forcefully.

She sighed again before adding in a sad tone, "I just wanted more for you little brother."

"Sometimes you're just going to have to let me make my own choices, sis," he replied. Logan knew she was concerned. She had a right to be. But as close as they were, some things she just wouldn't understand. There was a silence, and Logan really didn't know what else to say. He wanted to tell her more, but she already knew too much. He couldn't bring himself to end the call, though.

"What does _she_ have to say about it?"

Logan frowned, studying the table. He remembered Rory's last words, the look on her face as she left his home. "I don't know," he answered, his voice soft. "I haven't talked to her in a long time."

"Logan… what happened?" she asked gingerly.

"You were right, sis. I was an idiot," he frowned, thinking back to how Honor warned him over a month ago. "It was just two old friends having fun, that's all."

"I have a hard time believing that."

"Well, do." He tried to sound convincing, but he knew he failed. They lapsed into another heavy silence, Logan struggling to find anything else to say.

"So," she began, her tone upbeat once more. "I guess congratulations are in order."

"Thanks, Honor." He smiled, grateful that at least his sister could be happy for him.

"And for what it's worth… I'm sorry," she added apologetically.

His smile fell. Honor also knew him too damn well.

* * *

Logan sat in his office late Wednesday afternoon when his assistant knocked on his door. "Pardon me Mr. Huntzberger, but you have a parcel."

He didn't glance up from his computer screen as he said, "you know you can open any work parcels for me, Yvonne."

"I know that sir, but this is from your mother."

Logan looked up from his screen, confused. "My mother?" Yvonne handed him the FedEx box; he murmured thanks, oblivious to her leaving the room and closing the door. Logan studied the box, baffled to what his mother could be sending to him at work. She wasn't known for having sent any care packages nor did she tell him to expect anything in any of her phone calls

He ripped open the box, startled to find a card and a copy of Sunday's _New York Times_. Ignoring the paper, he opened the envelope to find a cheerful note from his mother:

 _Logan,_

 _I know it's still early, but we're just all so excited! We took the liberty of doing this for you, knowing that you two lead such busy lives and probably wouldn't remember to do so. The two of you look beautiful in the photo I chose - I think you'd both agree. Congratulations!_

 _Mom_

What the hell was she on about? He read her postscript, telling him to turn to a particular page. Filled with dread, he opened the paper and turned to the instructed page. He saw his name and another's profiled in black and white. "Fuck." The paper fell from his hands onto the desk. He grabbed his cell off the top of the desk, quickly searching for a name in his list of contacts.

"Hey, can you talk now or are you busy?" he asked after the person on the other end gave their greeting.

"No, I can step away for a moment."

He gave a long sigh before he said, "I had no idea. Dammit, I'm so sorry."

"Logan, I know. It's fine. I found out soon enough."

"How?" he asked, confused.

"Shira was kind enough to email it to me. Apparently, she's sending a copy to my parents' house."

He gave her a sarcastic chuckle. "How thoughtful of her. I got it in a FedEx package today at work, completely unannounced." Logan looked down again at the paper. It was a picture of the two of them, cropped from a group photo of a banquet they attended together. "It's a nice picture of us at least. Something to show the children. We almost have genuine smiles. It's amazing since we were both bored out of our minds. God that event was painful."

"That was right before Samuels put his hand on my ass. Now I get to remember that moment forever."

"He's a jerk. Why didn't you say anything then?" He heard her sigh on the other end. She didn't say anything, so he continued, "Odette, I'm sorry this was sprung on you. I didn't know they'd go ahead without telling us first."

"No, no, it's fine. I'm just fielding lots of calls from people just finding out. I've been told good news travels fast." She paused before she added, "my parents want to see you."

"Here? There?"

"Here." She continued hesitantly, "Logan?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

He laughed softly. "Hey, I already told you that."

"I know. I just, sometimes I wish," she trailed off, sighing.

"I know. I get it," he said sadly. In a positive voice he added, "but hey look on the bright side, our kids will be attractive."

She gave a bitter laugh in return "Well, only the best for our families. Two children should just about do it, right?"

Logan turned around to his window, gazing at the people walking on the sidewalk below. "We'll... _I'll_ find a way for it to work for you."

"I know. You're more than I deserve Logan."

"Do not say that, because I'm definitely not."

"You're better than the alternative."

"Back at ya." He smiled. At least they could find some positivity in all of this. "Hey, moving on to happier things."

"Yes, happy things are good."

"So, the promotion? How did it go?" he asked.

"It was fine. They're worried that I'll be distracted, though."

"Why would they...? Oh," he said, realization dawning.

"Yeah," she sighed in reply.

"But it's still good right? They still want you."

"I don't know," she responded with doubt in her voice.

"They can't do this," he growled. "They know how hard you work, name be damned."

"Sometimes it isn't that simple. You of all people should know that."

 _I know all too well_. "Yeah. I do."

Logan heard rapid French in the back of the call, Odette muttering out a reply. "Listen, I need to get back to work," she said. "I'll let you know about my parents. Are you okay to make a weekend visit?"

"Yeah, you're just a short hop, skip and a jump away," he tried to joke but fell flat.

"Good. I'll talk to you later then."

"Yeah. And Odette?"

"Hmm?"

"This will all work out okay in the end," he said seriously, hoping she would trust him on this. "I promise you."

"I appreciate it, Logan," she replied softly.

He heard the tone on the other line, indicating that she had disconnected. He slid his mobile back in his pocket and stared down again at the _Times_ paper spread out on his desk. When he imagined this moment when he was younger, he saw a very different announcement. One he had planned with a photo he had chosen happily with his fiancée. An announcement where they would eagerly look for it in a paper he bought himself. He never saw him finding out after the fact in a package sent by his mother. How fitting it was for his life. Just another choice made by someone else. This was what was supposed to happen though, right?

He rolled up the paper and shoved it in his desk drawer. He didn't need another reminder of the grand plan. What kind of guy was he to mess with destiny?

 **AN:** Logan's family and Odette will play a substantial role in this story.

Thanks for reading!

 _This is an updated version of the chapter that was first posted in January 2017_


	7. Umbrella

**AN** : Thank you so much for all the reviews! You guys are too kind. It really motivates me when life is getting me down.

Do not despair if things are not exactly what you were hoping for or what you were expecting. Remember Rory and Logan are not behaving in the best of ways - they still are having an affair. I cannot ignore it or make it pretty because this isn't an AU. I'm just giving more context in a way that I think fits the characters a little more than what we were given in the revival.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own this show. I don't even own an umbrella.

 **Chapter 7: Umbrella**

Brooklyn - Thursday, November 5, 2015

Rory crashed through the door of her apartment, dropping her luggage at her feet. She was drenched from head to toe; her rain jacket had done little to protect her from the torrential downpour outside. She took off her coat and soaked shoes, throwing them off to the side, not caring what else got wet. She was exhausted. She was supposed to have flown back yesterday, but she was delayed at O'Hare. She ended up sleeping on a hard bench, waiting around on standby, finally catching a flight back this evening. The icing on the cake was the storm that greeted her arrival. She carried the stack of envelopes she had taken out of her mail cubby from the apartment hallway and threw them on the coffee table before making her way to the shower. She wanted to wash away the disgusting plane, the airport, and one more failed journalistic attempt as soon as possible.

After her shower, she dressed in a clean pair of sweats and tee she found in her drawer. They weren't that hard to find; she was running low on clean clothes again. That meant a trip to the laundromat, one of her most dreaded chores and another chance to spend more money. She shuffled over to her small fridge, pulling out a lone bottle of soda. Her fridge was mostly empty. It held some cheese, some forgotten take-out food containers, a package of something that lost its freshness days ago and a bottle of water. She looked in her cabinets (also noticeably bare) finding the last packet of pop-tarts. Great, now she'd have to get dressed again to venture out in this monsoon and go to the corner bodega to get dinner.

Sighing, she walked over to her luggage and grabbed her laptop out of her carry on, thankful that she took her plastic covered roller on the plane with her to protect her electronics. She took the device to the couch with her, collapsing on the cushions, finally ready to face the bad news the envelopes held.

 _Your account is past due._

Oh great, another one of those. Her credit card statement said she had only about $750 of credit left, but that was from last week so who knew what it could be now after her trip. She decided against opening her bank statement; she got enough fear from opening the bank app on her phone. More bills to pay. Fantastic. A letter from her financial advisor that her grandpa set her up with. He had been trying to contact her for a while now - she knew it was about her rapidly depleting funds. Lastly, a letter from her building manager. Great, the condo thing. She still hadn't decided on that. She hated mail. For once she just wanted some good news.

Opening her laptop, she clicked on her Gmail account hoping for at least some good news there. She was disappointed once again - more rejections. She saw the "Grandpa" folder on the sidebar, her heart stopping at the thought of rereading emails they exchanged. She couldn't do that just yet. The pain was still too fresh. She noticed she had a new email from her mother. Her mother had taken to emailing her lately as Rory wasn't much of a conversationalist these days. The message began as letters from her mom usually did: updates from the Hollow, something stupid Kirk did and how it ticked off Taylor. She gave an update about Luke and the diner while explaining a funny thing Paul Anka did around the house. In times like these Rory wished for the simpler, dream-like life of Stars Hollow.

 _Rory, I know we haven't talked much, but I do worry about you. I know you say you're busy and that you have to travel for work, but do you have the time to make a small visit? I miss you, sweets. Life has been hard lately with grandpa being gone, and I'd just love to see your face again. I know Luke would too. Please let me know if you can manage it - if only for one night._

 _I hope the writing is going well. I'm proud of you babe. I love you._

She closed the email, choosing not to send a reply. She didn't know what to say. Yes, she would be in New York for a while, but she didn't want to make the trip north. She couldn't bear to hear her mom talk about her exciting career. If she went, she was pretty sure she'd have to see her grandmother as well, and Rory didn't think she could handle it. She would rather just be alone and wallow.

Her stomach gurgled. She looked out the window again and watched the water droplets gather on the glass. Maybe she'd skip getting dinner from the bodega down the street and just eat the pop-tarts instead.

* * *

"I believe that's all everyone," said Logan looking around the board table. "Good work. Now some of you I'll see back in London in a couple of weeks, for the rest of you I'm sure I'll see you back here in a couple of months. Thank you and have a good weekend."

With the meeting over, the group around the table got up to leave. Some members came over to shake Logan's hand and make small talk as they made their way out the door. Mitchum sat in the corner of the room, watching them file out. He had a slight grin on his face as he watched his employees interact with his son. When the last member had left, Mitchum got up and ambled over to his son, watching Logan as he packed up his materials.

"You did well, Logan. Everyone certainly responds to your management methods," said Mitchum proudly to Logan's bowed head.

"Yeah, the meeting went alright, but I have to wonder what you meant by 'my methods.'"

Mitchum frowned. "I was just giving you a compliment about the way you ran the meeting."

"You know, it's truly amazing," scoffed Logan as he turned to look at his father. "You attempt to compliment me, yet you still find a way to make it sound like a critique."

Mitchum's frowned deepened as his son spoke. "Can I not offer any constructive criticism?"

Logan continued to pack up his briefcase, ignoring his father as he talked. "You know what I find even more amazing? Is that you always find a way to be 'pleasantly surprised' every time a meeting ends in success. Like you don't know that I'm actually good at this, at managing people, at running your company. And even more, you're running out of things to even criticize me about."

"I'm just trying to be helpful. I worry about this deal. I want the everything to go smoothly."

"Yes, you and your precious deal," he said sarcastically, clicking his briefcase closed.

"You agreed. You thought it was a good idea."

"Yeah. Well, I'm not always good at reading the fine print." Logan turned away and out the door, his briefcase in hand. Mitchum followed his son as he walked down the long hallway to his son's office. Logan stepped inside and put his briefcase on the desk, looking out the window and onto Madison Avenue.

"Son, everything is going to work out in the end. I do want more for you. You do know that right?"

"Do you?" questioned Logan as he continued to stare out and watch the yellow cabs down below.

"Logan, I want you to have a great, successful life. You've had many successes already," replied Mitchum. "I do appreciate all you've done since it all happened. You've managed everything wonderfully. You're almost ready now," he added solemnly.

"I know," responded Logan with a sigh, turning around to sit at his desk. "What a blessing it was for you to have me swoop in and save this family with my tech-savvy ways."

"I'm serious Logan." Mitchum sat down on the chair at the other side of the desk, giving his son a sincere look. "I _am_ glad. You've been a great help, and I've been so proud to watch you these last few years." He paused, waiting for Logan to look directly at him before he continued. "And I know you've made your mother and sister proud as well. You've been a big help to this family."

Logan gave his father a small smile, grateful to hear some words of praise from the man. "Thanks, dad. It means a lot." Mitchum smiled back, and the two sat in a comfortable silence.

"Well since that's over," began Mitchum, sitting back straight in the chair. "When you fly back tonight …"

"Wait, hold up," interrupted Logan. "Who said I was going back this evening? I just got here," he explained, confused at the sudden turn in the conversation.

"The plans have already been changed. Didn't your assistant tell you?"

"No, but you know what? I'm staying. Maybe I'll see Honor, see my niece and nephew."

Mitchum frowned again. "You have business to attend to in London."

"It's Friday. I'm allowed to have a life," he snapped. "If it's that big of a deal, I'll refund you the money for the ticket. But I'm not leaving yet."

Mitchum stood up, buttoning his suit jacket as he did so. "You say that now but just know this - you can't blow off your responsibilities. You can't always use that argument for an escape." He turned around, walking to the office door. "One day, you'll understand," he said finally, his hand resting on the door handle.

"Good to know, dad. Your wisdom is always valued." Mitchum scowled and opened the door.

As his father walked through the door, Logan called out, "thanks again for the warm welcome, dad! I'll call you next time I'm in the States!" he added with a sarcastic wave. Mitchum threw him one last cross look before he closed the door.

Logan sighed and fell back into his chair. Today was going very well until this whole exchange. He had to admit, his last visit to New York held so much promise for the future. He had fun. _Let's not pretend it had anything to do with work, though_. He frowned; he didn't need to revisit that.

Even though Logan told his father he would go see Honor, he didn't think he'd do so tonight. He wouldn't be great company. He had to do something, though; he'd go crazy sitting around a hotel room. Taking his cell out of his pocket, he scrolled to a familiar name. _Just what the doctor ordered._

"Hey, how's it going? ... Yep, just got through with daddy dearest. He was his usual self. Listen, you still in town? … Great, want to meet later? ... Fantastic. I'll see you then."

Logan ended the call and swiveled his chair around to look out the window. He smiled to himself. The day was looking up.

* * *

Rory knocked on the door of Carolina's apartment Friday night, dressed for an evening out. Carolina invited her earlier in the week to some industry party she had to attend, and Rory declined as it wasn't really her style. However, with everything going wrong in her life lately, Rory decided a night out drinking and partying was precisely what she needed right now. It would get her out of her shitty apartment and out of her funk. Maybe she would even meet someone interesting to talk to. Carolina opened the door and greeted her with a smile and a new hairstyle.

"Wow Caro, I love your hair!" Rory said as she was ushered through the door.

"Thanks! I had one of the stylists we use at work help me. I thought I'd go Emma Stone or Scarlet Witch - both very in right now and it's something different."

"I like it," she replied honestly. "It looks great on you."

"Thanks, girl. You certainly look hot as well. I love that dress."

Rory blushed. She was still not comfortable with compliments after all these years. "Thanks. Figured I couldn't go wrong with a black dress to an industry party," she replied as she sat down watching Carolina finish getting ready.

"Please, as if you have to try with your looks," grinned Carolina as she rifled through her things. "Ugh, I can't believe this weather we're having. Rain again! All it does is make my hair all frizzy. I hate having to carry around umbrellas. Did you bring one?" She glanced over at Rory, noticing her friend's empty hands. "That's okay; you can borrow one of mine," she said, handing a small travel umbrella out to her.

"No, that's okay. I'm fine," Rory replied quickly with a shake of her head.

Carolina looked at her oddly. "It's crazy out there. And your jacket doesn't have a hood."

"I don't need one," she replied hardly.

"Oooo-kay," Carolina said with eyebrows raised. She reached for her own jacket and bag, grabbing her keys and leading Rory out the door. They took a short cab ride to the club, Rory feeling out of place amongst the high-styled partygoers. Carolina was in her element, telling stories from work and dutifully introducing Rory to her colleagues. Rory let the drums and bass carry her mind away, glad for the opportunity to drown her thoughts.

"Carolina? I'm just going to go over to the bar," she shouted over the music to her friend after twenty minutes of just standing around listening to others talk.

"You sure?" asked her friend concerned. "I'll come with."

"No, you stay," Rory said with a smile. "My shoes are killing me. I'm just going to grab a stool."

"Okay, just let me know if you change your mind."

"Will do." Rory quickly walked over to the bar and found a seat. Carolina was a great friend trying to include her, but Rory just wanted to be left alone now. She ordered a martini, grateful for that first sip of alcohol to hit her senses. Several men had tried to make small talk, but Rory sent them quickly away with a scowl. She was waiting for her second martini when she saw a blond approach the bar, turning away from her to look at the crowd. She studied the back of his head, thinking that it seemed awfully familiar. Though that could have been the alcohol and dimmed club lights playing tricks on her. The bartender returned with her drink, and in the time she spent with her attention on paying him she didn't notice the blond make his way towards her.

"Rory?"

She turned towards the familiar voice. Of course he would be here. She panicked seeing his face before quickly masking her fear and scowling. "What are you doing here, Logan?" she asked harshly.

Logan's face held surprise. "I was in town for work. Finn is somehow involved with the place, so I got dragged along for a night out. Not a place I expected to find you, though," he added with a frown.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." The bartender returned with Logan's drink and he paid the man, glancing every so often to his side to look at her.

"How have you been, Rory?" he asked, his eyes showing concern as he glanced at the drink in her hands.

"Just peachy. Living life, having fun, all that jazz," she answered before taking another long sip.

"So you decided to come have fun at a party for the fashion industry?"

"It's the new me," Rory muttered sarcastically.

He turned serious, looking into her eyes as he said, "you know when I asked you how you've been that's not what I was asking you about."

"I know. But you no longer have the right to know about my feelings." She was still angry at his sudden appearance, and she didn't care to be cordial. He was disturbing her peaceful night out.

"You make it sound like I don't care. I do," frowning at her attitude. Rory didn't respond; instead, she focused on her drink. Logan was a liar. He didn't care at all. He certainly proved that.

"So you're engaged. How nice for you," she said after almost of a minute of Logan standing there with his glass.

"How did you...?" He sighed. "The announcement. I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to find out that way."

"How kind of you tell me it was so serious," her eyes narrowing.

"When we saw each other, it wasn't. Rory, about Odette," he trailed off, eyes glancing off to the side.

"Please, just don't Logan." She didn't want to hear his excuses now.

"Rory…"

"I don't want to hear it, Logan," she repeated harshly. Logan's shoulders fell in defeat and he bit his lip as he stared into her glass.

Rory waited for his to walk away, for his to finally have enough of her attitude. But he remained standing next to her, his continued presence bringing up her old feelings. "You didn't call me," she muttered, her voice breaking with hurt.

"You told me not to," he replied confused.

She scoffed as she said, "like that's ever stopped you before."

"You think I didn't try to call you? Do you know how many times I tried to call you, to message you, to make sure you were okay?" he responded in borderline anger.

"Well, why didn't you if you were so worried then?"

He sighed again, clenching his teeth before answering. "Because - you were so adamant it was over. I just was doing what you wanted me to do, even if it killed me."

"Well," she sneered. "You certainly made your choice."

"And you made yours. I thought we were through," Logan said harshly. His shoulders sagged. "Just tell me what you want from me, Rory."

"I've got to get out of here," she muttered without looking at him, quickly leaving her chair and heading for a smokers exit. She threw open the door, thankful that the alley was somewhat deserted. It was drizzling again, and her hair grew damp. The door flew open again, Logan exiting carrying her handbag. Great, she almost left without her keys and phone.

"Ace, you forgot your bag," he said, holding it out to her. He looked concerned again.

"Don't call me that," snatching her bag out of his hands. "You don't have the right to call me that."

He frowned again, and she wondered if she detected a hint of sadness. "I thought it was over Rory, you said goodbye. It wouldn't be the first time."

She threw her head back, looking towards the sky and shaking her head. "You idiot. I didn't want to say goodbye." She stomped her foot in agitation. _I had to say goodbye._

"You didn't want to say goodbye? Wow, I must not be able to understand English then," he replied derisively. He threw his hands up in frustration, grasping at his head. "God Rory, I don't know what the hell you want anymore!"

She began to breathe in and out quickly, her voice angry. "I don't even know! Do you think I like feeling this way? Do you think I liked looking at that photo of you two in _The Times_ and realizing what I have become? Just another failure for Rory Gilmore, ruiner of lives. It happened once, had to happen again." Her breathing grew quicker, yet she found herself starved for oxygen.

"Rory, stop," interjected Logan, worried at her sudden change in behavior.

"Just one more aspect of my life that's a failure. My job is a fucking joke - like I even have one at this point. My family keeps thinking everything is okay and telling me wonderful I am, how amazing everything I do is. How am I going to tell them that I, their precious Rory, valedictorian, and Yale graduate can't even pay her bills on time because she can't get anything published? My grandparents would be so disappointed. Well, I guess just grandma now since Grandpa is dead." She paused as she realized what she said. "Oh god he's dead, and he died with me as a failure." She breathed in harsher, tears coming to her eyes. She was panicking in an alley, but she couldn't stop.

"Okay, we have to get you out of here," said Logan, grabbing her hand and leading her to the street. It began to rain harder, the water falling on her face mixing with her tears.

"What would he even think if he saw me now?" she wailed, tears coming in earnest now. She blindly followed his lead, hoping that he'd keep her away from onlookers.

"Don't think about that now," he replied, throwing an arm around her shoulders. He hailed a cab, ushering her inside when one yellow car stopped in front.

"Where are you taking me?" she whimpered.

"Home," he answered simply. "Now what's your address?" She repeated the street and number amid snorts and whimpers, too far gone to be embarrassed about her behavior in front of the cabbie. "You got that?" he asked the driver, before throwing his arm around her shoulder again to draw her into his side. He reached into his pocket to take out his phone, shooting off a message with one hand.

"Who are you texting?" she whispered, afraid of the outcome.

"Finn. I want him to know I left." She nodded slightly and rested her head back on his shoulders, her tears coming slower now. She shivered. She was cold from the rain, but she felt warmer snuggling up to him in the back of the cab.

"Oh! I forgot my coat at the coat check. Just wonderful," she snorted, wiping her nose. "I hope Carolina doesn't freak that I left."

"Just send her a message. I'm sure she could get it back," Logan said as he reached back into his pocket to hand her a handkerchief. She gratefully accepted and wiped her eyes and nose, hoping to make herself a little more presentable. Rory took her phone out of her purse, sending off a quick message of her own. She felt bad for her friend. It was evident that Rory wasn't as ready to party like she thought and she was horrible company. But if she didn't come to the party, she wouldn't have run into Logan. Despite everything, the embarrassing scene she just created, she had missed his smell. How trivial of her to think of that right now. They spent the long cab ride to her place in Brooklyn in silence, Rory almost lulled to sleep by the rocking of the cab and the warmth of his arm on her shoulder. For the first time in a long time, she felt sheltered from the world.

* * *

Rory watched as he paid the cabbie and led her up the stairs to her door. It surprised her that he remembered where she lived, but she said nothing as he reached into her bag to grab her keys. Any other day she would have scolded him for taking over like this, but she was too preoccupied in her sorrow so do so. He closed the door and hung his suit jacket on the hook, helping her out of her heels before toeing off his own shoes and leading her to the couch. He sat and guided her onto his lap, throwing her legs over him and guiding her head to his shoulder. Her tears began to calm from the comforting gesture, his hand on her back rubbing in circles. He kissed her head before leaning his cheek over her head.

"I messed everything up," she whispered into his neck.

"You didn't mess up anything."

"I messed up your life," she rebutted, fresh tears coming to her eyes.

"Rory, my life was way beyond messed up before you came along." He grabbed her free hand, squeezing it before angling his head further down to look at her. "You were never a part of the mess."

She breathed deeply again, taking comfort in his scent. "I just feel so lost. "

"You'll find your way again, I promise," he responded. He sounded so confident. If only she could feel that way.

"I hope so."

"I wish you saw yourself the way others see you. You're amazing, Ace." She looked up from his shoulder then, finding that he was giving her a slight smile. "I don't know what I can do to make you believe it, but it's true," he added, brushing her bangs behind her ear. She managed a small smile in return, sniffling a bit at his words. A lone tear fell; he wiped it away before resting his hand back in her hair. She leaned her forehead against his own, his compliment repeating in her mind.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Anytime." He was still rubbing her back, following the dip where her spine was. She drew her head back again, looking once more into his eyes before leaning forward and giving him a gentle kiss. His hand that was in her hair tightened, keeping her from drawing away. He deepened the kiss, Rory bringing up her own hand to his neck. Their kisses grew hungrier, hands wandering. She shifted, so she was now straddling his lap, both arms now around his neck while his were around her waist. She broke it off and soon trailed kisses down his neck, opening his shirt collar for more access.

He gripped her waist harder, stilling her hips. "Rory," he grunted out between sharp breaths. "Do you want me to go?"

She didn't look up, whispering out a "no" as she licked his collarbone. He gasped in return.

"Rory," he grunted out again, hoping for a real answer.

She moved up from his neck, giving him another long, deep kiss before moving her head back to reply. "No," she replied, looking into his eyes, hoping to convey her need. "Please, stay. Please, just," she trailed off, wishing he understood her meaning. He nodded slightly and leaned in, giving her a bruising kiss. She grasped his head with both hands before moving them back down to work on his shirt buttons.

Their kissing grew deeper, their breathing heavier, their hands frantically groping. Logan gripped Rory's thighs, his hands slowly pushing up her skirt to her waist before fondling her ass. She worked his belt buckle, sliding it through the loop then reaching for his zipper. Her body was on autopilot, wanting what it shouldn't have. Her conscience was there, telling her to stop while she was ahead, but her feelings were telling her to continue the descent into madness and pleasure.

Rory lifted herself on her knees, reaching under her dress to pull down her underwear. She stepped out of them while Logan pulled his trousers and boxer briefs down to his ankles. He reached for her to return to his embrace, her legs once again straddling his waist. She gasped into his mouth as he entered her, her hands gripping tightly to his shoulders. She began to rock, his hands on her waist helping to guide her. Their tongues battled for dominance, finally breaking off the kiss when the need for oxygen became too great. It was over almost as quickly as it began, both of them breathing harshly into each other's necks. One of Rory's hands was fingering the hair at the nape of his neck, the other on his lower back. He placed a kiss on her shoulder before resting his head back into the crook of her neck and inhaling deeply.

"It's been a long time since we've done that," he chuckled in between breaths.

She grinned into his neck and shivered, partly from his joke but mostly because her dress was still damp from the rain outside. He noticed her tremble and drew her tighter into his embrace, rubbing his hands over her bare arms. "Come on," he said, kissing her cheek again before guiding her off his lap. "We have to get you out of these wet clothes," he ordered, reaching over to grab a tissue from the box on the coffee table to clean himself up. He then stood and pulled up his pants, buttoning them hastily. He held out his hand to her, helping her up from the couch.

"I'm disgusting," she replied, knowing her hair must be snarled and her makeup runny.

"Come on, you'll feel better after a shower," he smiled, leading her to the bathroom. She watched him as the open ends of his dress shirt billowed behind him. She was in awe of his looks, amazed how he could look so beautiful at a time like this. He stopped to turn the knobs, checking the water temperature before turning her around to help with her dress zipper. She allowed him to take off her dress and then her bra, sliding it down her shoulders before she stepped over the tub. She made to close the curtains but paused and held her hand out to him, softly asking, "join me?"

He blinked before sliding the shirt off his shoulders, folding it hastily. He took off his pants and socks as well, setting the group of clothes neatly off to the side. He stepped over the tub and closed the curtain, smiling down at her. He watched as she leaned her head back under the stream of water, brushing her hair from her face. He reached for her shampoo; she turned away so he could access her hair. She smiled as she felt his hands in her hair, softly sighing as he massaged her scalp. She had missed this. They often took showers together when they had lived together; it was one of the closest forms of intimacy she had missed with him when he was sent off to London.

After all the soap had been rinsed, she stepped out first, wrapping herself in the towel left on the hook. She reached into the basket underneath her sink, handing Logan his own towel. He dried himself off and stepped out of the tub, wrapping the towel around his waist before grabbing his clothes and exiting the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth and used the toilet, she wondered to herself what he was doing in her living room. She thought of her earlier outburst at the club and was embarrassed. However, in his typical fashion, he quickly removed her from embarrassing herself further and offered her a shoulder to cry on, something she didn't deserve. Nevertheless, she was thankful he was there.

She hung up her damp towel then stood in the doorway, leaning her head against the door jamb, watching him as he typed out something on his phone. His clothes were laid on her coffee table, one hand grabbing the knot of the towel at his waist. "Are you leaving?" she asked, almost dreading the answer.

He looked up at her, his eyes widening. "I thought," he began at first, before swallowing thickly and licking his lips. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked in return, his face giving her an inquiring look.

She pushed herself off the jamb, walking over to him naked before taking his hand. "Please," she whispered, stepping back to her room.

"You sure?" he asked. Rory nodded and smiled slightly, her hands on his towel asking his silent permission to remove it. He helped her along, watching her as she left his side to hang it up in the bathroom. She soon returned, leading him to her bed. He lay down first, opening his arms to her, letting her snuggle up to him with her head on his chest. He reached down and dragged the covers over their bodies, protecting them from the chilly November air.

"Stay," she whispered into his chest. "Just stay here with me. Lie here with me. I want to forget about the world out there, if only for a little while."

* * *

It was early Saturday morning, and Logan lay awake in Rory's bed, leaning slightly against the headboard as he listened to the pitter-patter of the rain on the window. He felt her soft breaths against his chest and knew she was still fast asleep. He had a feeling that she was exhausted for she fell asleep rather quickly last night. He had trouble falling asleep himself. And here he was at five in the morning having been up for the last thirty minutes. He would have liked to blame it on jet lag and his body clock being on London time, but he knew there was more to it.

He should have turned quickly away when he saw her sitting alone at the bar last night. The panic in her expression when she saw him scared him at first, and he wanted to make sure she was alright. He knew she wasn't okay when she left his home that morning in September, but she was so adamant for him not to contact her that he had to respect her wishes. He knew it was a bad idea for him to be here in her bed right now. He just couldn't walk away from her. He couldn't just leave her alone as she was panicking in the alley. He had to take her home and make sure she would be alright, though he wasn't expecting _this_ outcome. She needed and wanted him now, and he had always been helpless when it came to her.

He had been absentmindedly running his hand up and down her spine, and the action must have woken Rory from her slumber. She shifted her head on his chest a bit before lifting it to look up at him. "What time is it?" she whispered, her voice raspy from sleep.

"Too early, Ace. Go back to sleep," he answered. She decided against it though and sat up further. She scooted her body back to rest against the headboard next to him, dragging the covers up with her.

"I'm sorry for last night," she said as she leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Hey," he began, grabbing her hand with his own. "You don't have anything to apologize about."

"I made a mistake."

"We both have. We both have our fair share of them," he murmured back, staring at the wall opposite him.

He felt dampness on his shoulder, and he realized she had begun to cry. "Hey, stop crying now," he said as he brushed her hair away from her face.

She whimpered and her shoulders shook. "I just - I don't know what to do now. Everything's going all wrong."

"So, make it right. I'll help you."

"I'm not some charity case, Logan."

"I know you're not." He took his hand that was on her head and gently lifted her chin so she could look at him. "I know you're anything but a charity case." He brushed away the bangs that had fallen in her eyes before cupping her cheek. "Listen, I know someone who maybe can help you with articles. A friend of mine. Knows a lot of people. Works with all the big publications. I'll send him your stuff."

She shook her head. "Logan, that's too much."

"No, it's not. Consider it a month's late birthday present," he slightly grinned.

"You remembered," she said as her eyes grew big.

His face became serious again. "Of course I did. I thought about you all day."

She faced away from him then, gazing at a spot on the covers. "That was the one day I really regretted telling you not to contact me," she whispered, almost ashamedly.

This surprised him. "Was it?"

"My grandpa always called me. And this year, no call." She didn't elaborate any further. Logan was confused. What did she mean by that? Perhaps she just wanted to hear a friendly voice that day.

"When do you fly back?" she asked finally in a murmur, her fingers picking imaginary lint off the covers.

"Sunday night, or tomorrow night I guess."

"Will you," she trailed off, her fingers growing still.

"What is it Rory?" he asked as he ran his palm over her hair.

"Will you stay with me until you leave?"

Logan knew as soon as she turned those bright blue eyes towards him he was a goner. He couldn't deny her, especially as he saw unshed tears in her eyes. "Of course." She gave him a small smile in thanks and reached up to give him a soft kiss before resting her head back on his chest and closing her eyes. He brushed her hair back a few more times and decided to get some more sleep as well. He'd battle with himself later today, but for now, he was content to lie here with her.

* * *

Logan left late Saturday morning for the second time, kissing her brow and promising to return later. He had gone out earlier to get coffee and bagels for them, but this time he only told her he was going to go get his suitcase and bring it back. He messaged Finn on his way out the door, asking if it was okay if he came over now to pick up the suitcase he left there yesterday. He had totally expected to crash at his friend's place but last night's run-in with Rory had changed those plans. The doorman allowed him through with a wave, sending him right up. Finn greeted him cheerily at the door, his grin dropping at Logan's solemn expression.

"Hey mate. How'd it go?"

"It was fine. I'm just going to go grab my stuff." Logan paused on his way through the door, startled to see a woman eating at the table in front of him. "Good morning," he said cordially. The woman grinned and replied a soft "morning" back. Logan turned to Finn and raised his brows before heading down the hallway to the guest bedroom.

"Carolina, I'm just gonna go," Finn trailed, gesturing down the hallway. She fanned her hand in a "go on" gesture and Finn smiled, rushing after his friend his friend. Finn found Logan removing a change of clothes from his case. "So, how's Rory?"

"She's fine. She's just going through a rough patch right now," Logan said, focusing on his clothes and toiletries.

Finn frowned. "And you were just there to give her a friendly shoulder to cry on?"

"Yes," he answered seriously. "It was nothing more than that. Now," Logan said, turning around with clothes in his arms. "I'm going to go change before I head over to Honor's."

"Oh, right. I'll just go out and finish breakfast." He rushed out of the room, and Logan walked into the adjoining bath. As he shaved and brushed his teeth, he tried to ignore the fact that he just lied to one of his closest friends. Finn didn't need to know about his relationship (or lack thereof) with Rory. The fewer amount of people who knew, the better. Though based on Finn's questioning look, Logan had the suspicion that Finn didn't quite believe his lie about Honor. He was sure his wrinkled clothing gave too much away, though he could blame that on sleeping on the couch. Once he was finished and suitcase all packed, he walked out to the living room and saw Finn and his female friend chatting. "Finn, thanks for everything," he began once they reached a lull in the conversation. "I really appreciate it."

"No worries. You'll call next time you're in town?"

"Yeah," Logan began but trailed off when something further out in the room caught his eye. It was Henry the knight, standing proudly in the corner. How did he miss seeing that yesterday? He had gone on so long without seeing him that the feature of his New Haven apartment shocked him. After what happened last night, the sight of Henry was just another reminder of feelings Logan had tried to ignore.

"Logan!" Finn almost yelled, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"Oh, I'm sorry, what?"

"I asked you when your flight left," Finn said with a curious look.

"Oh, um, tomorrow night," shaking himself out of his thoughts. He smiled and turned to the woman at the table. "It was nice to meet you. I'm just going to go, Finn," he added looking at his friend.

"Right," Finn said as he got up and followed him to the door.

"Thanks again."

"As I said, no worries. Glad I could help," Finn said as he walked through the door. "And Logan?"

"Hmm?" Logan turned, surprised by Finn's serious look.

"Give my love to Honor, won't you?" he said with a pointed look before he closed the door.

* * *

After dropping off his suitcase in her apartment, he ventured out for a third time, saying he was off to go grab dinner. He left her on the couch, her eyes numbly watching a show on her laptop. He found an Italian restaurant nearby and ordered a pizza, large salad, and minestrone soup, hoping that would help cheer her up. When he returned, he found that she hadn't moved from her place on the sofa. "It's not the place we used to go to at Yale, but Yelp says it's good. Also, I know how much you love minestrone soup when you're feeling blue," he said after he greeted her.

Rory smiled slightly as she stood. "You always could almost read my mind," she said before going into her kitchenette to grab some plates and cutlery. She handed him a plate and a pair of silverware on her way back, settling down next to him on the couch and reaching for the soup.

"Rory," he began after he ate a few bites of pizza. "Why did you never say how bad things were? Why did you lie?"

She was silent a few moments before answering, her focus on swirling the spoon in the bowl. "I didn't want to be a disappointment. My mom sacrificed so much to get me where I am, and my grandparents were just so proud. I was their chance to do it right. I couldn't be the bearer of bad news. I just couldn't let them know that their successful daughter was struggling so much in her thirties. You're supposed to be a mess in your twenties, not now at my age. I didn't want to fail at the one thing I always wanted to be."

"Except you're not failing. You're just going through a rough patch."

"A very long one."

"It will end, though. Do I need to send you motivational plaques to hang like back in your senior year?" he joked.

She grinned at his smirk. "I don't think we have to go that far."

"Please just from now on, tell me things okay?" he implored, looking into her eyes. "I want to know."

"Okay," she nodded. "I promise I will."

They spent the next twenty hours enjoying each other's company, lounging on the couch and getting used to talking again. They covered shallow topics, only briefly mentioning what they had done in the time they had spent apart. Neither had mentioned their families or their current romantic entanglements. He joked, and Rory slowly began to laugh and truly smile again; her eyes would light up, and he knew she was feeling better. Before he left in the cab late Sunday afternoon, he kissed her forehead and said, "everything will work out in the end. You'll see."

He only hoped she believed him.

* * *

The week following their reunion was relatively uneventful for Rory. She wandered over to Carolina's apartment Tuesday evening to pick up her jacket, grateful that her friend was able to pick it up for her. Thankfully Carolina didn't ask any questions about what happened to Rory Friday night as her friend was too busy telling her about the charming foreign man she met that owned the club. Rory nodded and hummed in all the right places, but her mind was too occupied with thoughts of Logan. Rory left with thanks and a promise to meet up soon, though she knew that they wouldn't. Carolina was a little too bubbly and happy at the moment, and Rory wasn't in the mood to surround herself with that again just yet.

Logan had sent her an email Tuesday afternoon telling her that he had contacted his friend about her. It was towards the end of the work week now, and she still hadn't heard from his contact and it was driving her crazy. She wondered if he had lied or if his friend thought she was awful. She had been so consumed with thoughts of Logan and his promise to help that she couldn't focus on anything else. She tried to write an article for an online publication, but she even gave that up after a couple of days. It was amazing. The girl who wrote about a parking lot at Chilton couldn't write an article about Trump even with the sheer abundance of material. She was losing her edge. Time to throw in the towel she guessed.

Oh, Logan. What was she going to do about Logan? Clearly, what happened in this apartment last weekend should not have happened. He was engaged to another oblivious woman overseas. She was disgusted with herself. The girl who cried on the steps of her home after losing her virginity wouldn't even recognize the woman sitting on her couch. Oh and this couch, she was going to have to burn it or throw it away, something. Every time she looked at it, she was reminded of last Friday night and the two of them together.

She needed to get her mind off Logan. Paul called earlier and asked her out for the night, Rory quickly accepting the opportunity. Just what she needed. A date with a nice, available man who clearly liked her well enough. Plus he knew nothing about her current struggles or much about her other life. When she was out with him, she could pretend she was Rory Gilmore, a journalist in the big city just trying to get by. She didn't have to be Rory Gilmore, Connecticut blue blood, Yale graduate, massive underachiever and now, adulterer (times two if she wanted to be precise). It felt nice just to be a regular thirty-one-year-old. She knew she would have a decent enough time and it was exactly what she needed. Screw what Paris said about him. They'd have fun. She'd even make sure to ask him more about his life so she could answer Paris next time she interrogated her about boring Paul. She was determined to make this real relationship, the only real one she had at the moment, work.

An hour before she was to meet up with Paul, her phone rang from an unknown foreign number. Rory answered hesitantly, confused at who would be calling her late Friday afternoon.

"Hi, Rory Gilmore? This is Daniel Larsen. I'm a friend of Logan Huntzberger. He gave me your number," said the English voice on the other side.

She stood up straighter. Logan actually gave out her information and his friend was calling her? Maybe this could be great. "Hi! I mean hello. Yes, Logan said you might be calling me."

"Brilliant. He sent me over some examples of your work. I have to say I'm impressed with what I've seen."

"You are?"

She heard a chuckle on the other end. "Indeed I am. You certainly have a fan in Logan. He thinks very highly of you. He told me you were his editor at Yale. You must be good if you could order him around."

"Yeah, I was his editor," she said solemnly. At least he hadn't told Daniel she was his ex-girlfriend too.

"Listen, is there any chance you'll be in London next week or after? I'm not going to be in the States anytime soon, and I would like to meet you. Go over some of your ideas, discuss some writing opportunities."

"Yeah, I could be over there as early as next week! Um, just have to get some things organized, but yeah, I can meet you," she replied excitedly.

"Wonderful, I'll send you an email with my own contact info so we can schedule a meeting. Now I have some things I'd like to discuss with you now…"

As they spoke, Rory's grin grew wider. What an incredible opportunity she had now. Daniel certainly knew everyone. It made sense that Logan was friends with him. And Logan - what did he even say about her to Daniel? She knew Logan was her cheerleader back at Yale, and her heart clenched that he still was boasting about her to other people. She certainly didn't deserve it now, but she wasn't going to waste this chance.

 _Logan Huntzberger, you magnificent, wonderful man._

* * *

On Saturday afternoon, Logan sat at his home reading when his phone rang. It surprised him to see Rory's name on the screen - he certainly wasn't expecting a phone call from her anytime soon. He knew he told her to call him if she needed him but there was a part of him that thought she'd ignore his request. "Rory? Is everything alright?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" exclaimed Rory happily. "Thank you so much! I just can't believe it. This is so great. I don't know how to thank you!"

He chuckled as he replied, "you're welcome, but I'm not really sure what for. Want to clue me in?"

"Daniel Larsen, silly. He called me. He said you gave him my work and my contact info," she explained.

"Oh, that." He grinned. He was glad to hear her in good spirits again. "Yeah, I may have bragged about you a bit."

"And I thank you for that, sir," she joked. "We talked for a long time. We exchanged ideas, and he wants to meet me. He gave me the name of an author he knows and I'm meeting them Monday, hoping that I can gain some inspiration! He even said he might be able to get me in some papers over here as well if I write well enough and thanks so much and I'm flying over soon to meet him and did I mention how great this is?" she rattled off quickly.

"It does sound great. I'm really happy for you. I told you it would all be okay. You have a lot to offer, Rory Gilmore."

"Thanks, Logan, honestly. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it," she said seriously.

"Not a problem." He paused before he asked, "when are you coming?"

"This week! I booked a flight for Wednesday evening. I'm meeting him Thursday for lunch. I just have to finalize the hotel, and I'm all set."

He frowned at her answer. "How long are you staying?"

"Um, I don't really know yet, but I think a while."

"You're going to spend a fortune on hotels. You can stay with me, you know."

"Logan, are you sure?" she asked quietly.

He paused before giving his reply. He was going to regret saying this, but if it convinced her to stay with him, so be it. "Vegas has an opening," hating himself for alluding to their old arrangement.

She was quiet on the other end, and he thought she was debating how to turn him down. He was about to tell her to forget it when a whispered "okay," came through the line.

"I'm glad, Rory." He smiled to himself again. He was going to see her soon. "You'll message me the details of your flight?"

"Yeah. I'll do that after I hang up."

"Okay. See you Thursday." He hung up after she said her farewells and grinned. His Ace was coming back.

* * *

Rory typed furiously on her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard. She was just too jumpy for everything that happened this week. She was currently 36,000 feet over the Atlantic and slightly frazzled about her upcoming reunion with Logan. She knew he was meeting her again at the airport and taking her back to his place before she met up with Daniel. She was a bit nervous, wondering if what she was doing was a good idea. It wasn't smart to get entangled in his life again, especially with all these new factors. But he was right, she wasn't sure how long she was staying in town, and she would save money. If anything, she desperately needed to save her money now.

She met with Daniel's author friend Monday, hoping to exchange ideas but ended up walking away with so much more. He proposed the meeting with his "dear friend" at first because he claimed they shared many of the same thoughts and a similar outlook on life. He warned her that she was a bit different and he wasn't lying. However, Rory really did like her. She held strong feminist beliefs and she was a stringent environmentalist. She traveled all over the globe for her work improving women's lives, increasing literacy, and helping those in drought-stricken countries save water and improve farming techniques. She was in New York for a brief talk about feminism in Africa at the UN, before teaching small seminars over at Columbia. An hour lunch quickly turned into three, Rory using the meeting as an impromptu interview after the woman for her permission. Her hand quickly grew tired of writing in her notebook, but she didn't want to miss a single detail. The woman drank throughout their lunch, certainly more than what was considered proper for the middle of the day, yet she remained sober enough to stay coherent. Rory genuinely enjoyed the meeting and hoped she would get to meet the fascinating, eccentric woman again soon.

She typed her last sentence, finishing off her "interview" with the author named Naomi. She hoped to bring a draft of it to Daniel later today, eager to show off her ability to write things on the fly. Who knew, if she tweaked it, maybe she could get it published somewhere with Naomi's permission. She closed her laptop and placed it in her bag, exchanging it with one of Naomi's books she had bought from a bookstore before she left. She was already about thirty pages in, she hoped to polish off one hundred before she got some much-needed sleep.

Once her plane landed, she found Logan waiting at the security gate, a soft smile just for her. She restrained herself from flying into his arms, choosing instead to give him a one-armed hug, but allowing him to kiss her on the cheek. She smiled back, nervous and excited for this opportunity to redeem herself in London. All thanks to Logan, of course.

 _Screw bad ideas_ , she thought to herself as she listened to him talk in the car, his eyes bright as he told a funny story from work. This felt right.

* * *

"Then he read through my draft about my meeting with Naomi. He thought it showed real gumption to go ahead and take the initiative to write it. He said I really captured the essence of his dear friend. He thinks I really have talent," Rory said to Logan as they ate dinner at a local pub that evening. He dropped her off at his home before heading off to work, making sure she knew where she was going to meet his friend that afternoon. He gave her another kiss as he left, telling her he was taking her out that evening to celebrate her return. "He wants me to clean it up a bit before sending him my finished draft. He's going to contact her again about publishing it, and he'll send her my draft; he really thinks she'll be okay with it. I mean, she told me so when I asked if I could turn it into an interview, but he wants to make sure. She's always looking for exposure for her causes. He thinks it has potential in some magazines. Apparently, it's just the type of thing they're looking for."

"That's great, Ace!" Logan replied smiling, in between bites. "I've heard about this woman and the work she does. I think I've even read some of her stuff. She sounds like quite a character."

"She certainly is entertaining, that's for sure. There wasn't a dull moment in our lunch, believe me." She took a sip of wine before she continued, "he thinks I have some opportunities for stuff while I'm here. He told me to stick with what I know. If I write something good enough, he thinks I can get some opinion pieces in the local papers here about Brexit, culture wars, perhaps from an American viewpoint on the 'other side' of things."

"It's definitely an option," he said, reaching for his drink. "Jessica Valenti writes for the _Guardian_ about the struggles of modern feminism, though she's based in the U.S. Janet Daley is another one I know of, she's an expat who writes for the _Telegraph_. However, she might be a little more conservative than what you're aiming for," he added with a smirk.

"Yeah," she grinned. "Not what I'm aiming for. But you're exactly right: there are options. Maybe I can offer a perspective about the Republican primaries from expats and then vice versa when I'm back in New York. It's always interesting, and papers eat it up. Although there will always be a little smugness on both sides. 'Of course, as an outsider, I'm no way involved,'" she mimicked in an affected, English voice.

"I've found one way to quickly shut Brits up about our politicians is to remind them that Nigel Farage and Boris Johnson exist. Makes things easier at the office."

She chuckled as she thought back to Boris on the news that night. "Yeah, I guess we all have our share of weird politicians." They went back to their food, a momentary but comfortable lull in the conversation. Her lunch with Daniel was fascinating, but it left her dying to know something that had been troubling her from his first call. "So Daniel is a really cool guy," she began, wondering how to proceed.

"He is," Logan replied, eyebrows raised in question.

"No I mean, he's really cool, just a different type of guy. Not someone I necessarily saw you being friends with, though."

"What do you mean?" he asked, a bit confused.

"Well for one, he's like a sixty-year-old hipster who wears corduroy and ill-fitting suits. He also wears Woody Allen specs, and I have to wonder when the last time he combed his hair was. He's kind of all over the place when he talks, and I'm still not sure what exactly it is he does."

"Yeah, that's Daniel," he responded, grinning. "He's a bit eccentric, but he's a very dear friend. He was working for the company when I first moved over here after Yale. He helped guide me and offered me advice. He's pretty much worked for everyone, whether it's a newspaper or a publishing house. He's very well-known and knows a lot of people in high places. He also has a heart of gold. We got back in contact after I moved to London. You know I published quite a few articles myself since I came back to the company and he was always around to lend a helpful red pen."

"That's really neat." Rory was glad Logan had found someone like that to look up to, especially since she knew he was struggling with his newfound responsibilities after Yale. "But I don't understand. He just agreed to meet with me as a favor to you out of the goodness of his heart?"

"What did I tell you weeks ago, Rory? I know you think you are a charity case but you are not," he said seriously. "Daniel likes to discover and cultivate talent. He likes to take young authors under his wing, to help the future of journalism. 'The art of journalism will only die if we allow it to,' is one thing he likes to say. He's determined to keep it going all by himself. When I told him about you, he told me first that you must be good if I thought so highly of you. Obviously, he agreed after reading your work since he contacted you. He wouldn't have done so if he thought it wasn't worth it. And I in no way pressured him to do so."

She smiled at the subtle compliment he hid in his response. Her confidence was coming back, slowly but surely. "Well, thank you. I did enjoy meeting him."

"I'm glad," he said, and they went back to their meals.

"How are Honor and the kids?" she asked finally, looking for something other to talk about than work.

"They're great. They're going up to Boston for Thanksgiving with Josh's family. She's leaving early, and he'll join them when it's closer to the day. His parents are really great to those kids. She certainly spends more time with them than our own, not that I can blame her. Mom's usually in a spa during the holiday and dad is, well, wherever the hell he flies off to that week," he added sardonically.

"And what about you? Are you not joining her?" she asked, intrigued.

"No Thanksgiving in England, remember?"

"Oh, right. So you're just going to work," she said matter-of-factly.

"Well, if nothing better comes along, that is," he said to her with a wink. She blushed at his implication.

After they had finished their dinner that evening, Logan helped her into her coat, reaching and pulling her hair out over the collar. He smiled at her and brushed his hands along her shoulders, before trailing his hand down one arm to lead her out the door. He opened his umbrella and pulled her underneath, Rory giggling as he told a cheesy joke. She grasped his arm that held the umbrella the short walk home, leaning into his side and into his warmth.

* * *

It was late Monday afternoon, and Rory was sitting on Logan's couch, writing an outline for an article she planned to pass along to Daniel later in the week. She had conducted quite a few interviews already and was brainstorming the format she wanted for her piece. She was just going to finish up a bit of work before getting ready for the evening; Logan would be home soon, and she knew he would be up for going out for dinner as soon as he got back. Her phone rang, and her mother's picture appeared on the screen. Rory debated answering her, but she figured she might have to do it this time. She hadn't been the best at responding to her mother's many emails lately.

"Hi mom, how's it going?" she asked when she finally answered the call.

"Rory? Hi," replied Lorelai, almost surprised. Rory thought her mom probably didn't expect her to answer.

"How's Luke?"

"He's fine, I'm fine, we're all fine. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. You know, just working."

"Uh huh," her mom murmured. She said more seriously, "you've been ignoring my emails."

Rory sighed. She knew she would chastise her for this. "I haven't. I've just - I've been busy."

"Well, since you didn't respond to my last ten emails, I'm glad you answered. Are you coming home for Thanksgiving on Thursday?"

"No. I have to work."

"Look, Rory. I know it's been difficult since," Lorelai began, but Rory quickly cut her off.

"It's not that. I assure you I'm fine. I have to work. This is what I do. I can't make any promises on my schedule. You know that. Especially as a freelancer."

Lorelai paused. "Well, will you be coming home sometime soon?"

"I'll let you know when I can make it."

"Okay," her mom replied, a bit defeated.

"I'll call you on Thanksgiving, though," she added quickly, reminding herself to make a note.

"That would be great sweets. I'll let you get back to your work. I love you."

"Love you too, mom." Lorelai hung up, and Rory sighed again. She still wasn't ready to make the trek home. She hoped she'd be ready sometime, though. She just needed a little more time.

* * *

Logan ended up staying home from work on Thursday, claiming he had the right to do so as an American. He ordered a fancy meal from a local restaurant, a bit too European for Rory's tastes but they had most of the typical Thanksgiving staples covered. They had even managed to find a can of pumpkin from the "American" shelf at the local Tesco. Their attempt to make pumpkin pie was met with cursing and the smoke alarm going off, but in the end, they managed to make something edible. They didn't care; they had their pie and whipped cream, with enough whipped cream left over for some other, less innocent activities later. As Rory lay in bed that night and watched him sleep, she thought to herself that this had been the best Thanksgiving she ever had.

The weekend brought more good news. When she sent over her finished article to Daniel, he informed her that he talked to some friends of his and her piece with Naomi would be published in the _New Yorker_ , in their "Talk of the Town" section. He told her that was exactly the type of thing they were looking for over there, and that they looked forward to seeing more work from her. He said finally that she didn't hear this info from him, but to look out for a call from them and act surprised when they told her. She graciously thanked him and promised she would act surprised, chatting a little more about what else she was working on before they ended the call. She was ecstatic; she felt as if some things were finally coming together for her.

"Wow Ace, that's amazing!" exclaimed Logan after she told him the news.

"I know, it really is. I mean, the _New Yorker_! Do you know how many opportunities this can bring me? Maybe I could use this as an in for the _Times_ like I've been aiming for. The _New Yorker_ is a big deal. Great addition to my portfolio."

"I know it is," he replied grinning. "This could open a lot of doors for you, maybe do some things you weren't exactly expecting."

She grinned back. She chewed her bottom lip, wondering how to mention something that had been on her mind for a while. She had meant to bring it up to him before but now seemed the perfect moment to do so. "Paris thinks I should write a book," she said hesitantly.

He looked thoughtful, nodding to himself before looking back at her with a smile. "I think you should."

"Really?" she asked, surprised at his quick agreement with Paris.

"It's perfect for you. It's perfect for the way you work. You like to research, you like to write and really delve into something, You like to take your time with things," he answered as if it was obvious.

He did make a good point. "You're right. That is what I like to do. I think I will then." He smiled and kissed her quickly, squeezing her hand as he drew back. She smiled and looked out the window, frowning at the wind blowing the water against the glass. "Does it ever stop raining?"

He followed her gaze out the glass. "Here? Doesn't seem like it. You get used to it, though."

* * *

"Sorry I can't come with you to the airport," he said into her hair as they said their goodbyes in the foyer Monday morning. He had a morning meeting and had to forego seeing her off this time. She had gotten the news last night that her recent article would be published in the _Guardian_ and they once again spent the night celebrating her success. Rory was sad to leave him again, as the past twelve days had been such a high point for her in the last few months. She could tell herself it had to do with career getting back on track until she was blue in the face, but she knew seeing Logan again played a big part of it.

"It's okay. I'll manage. I have traveled out of Heathrow before, you know" she said as she drew back from his embrace.

"I'll see you again, right?" he asked brushing her hair away from her face, his eyes hopeful.

"You can count on it," she answered with a smile. She grabbed her luggage and extended the handles, reaching up to give him one last, small kiss before she left his house. She was almost out the door when she looked down at her hands. "Oh shoot, your umbrella," she said turning around, holding it out to him.

"Take it, I have another. Besides, I have a feeling you'll need it someday," he added with a smirk.

She grinned in response, exiting the house and dragging her luggage out to the waiting cab. She turned and mouthed "goodbye" at him, giving him one last small wave before closing the door. She watched his face as the car drove off, promising herself that she was going to make sure that she'd see him soon.

* * *

Brooklyn - Monday, November 30, 2015

Rory opened her last deadbolt and walked into her apartment, home at last. She leaned his umbrella up against the wall and slowly took off her wet jacket to hang on the hook next to the door. Leaving her luggage in the entryway, she walked over to her couch with the stack of envelopes she just got from her mail cubby. More bills again that she couldn't really pay, just fantastic. There was reality again, welcoming her home with a slap in the face.

Despite the bad news the letters held, Rory was too giddy with excitement. A piece in the New Yorker, an article in the Guardian, getting paid to write again. She just couldn't believe it. The New Yorker, _The New Yorker!_ She grinned, leaning her head back against the cushion. It was incredible that she had this opportunity. Daniel liked her work and thought she was talented. Naomi thought she was brilliant and was going to brag about her to her friends. Finally, things were looking up for Rory. This month began so dreary and now going into December, things were back on track. Thank God for Logan's help. Once again he saved her ass.

 _Infinitely worth saving._

Her grin got bigger as she thought of him back in London. How excited he was for her, how encouraging he was. Watching him critique her drafts and offer his suggestions in a way that was so reminiscent of what they had back in Yale. No matter what, he had a way to make her think anything was possible. She had missed that all these years. She wished she could have that all the time. But she couldn't have it now. He was there, she was here, and he was with _her._

But he offered his place to her again. She accepted it even though she knew she shouldn't. They were both guilty of ignoring reality. In London, she could pretend the outside world didn't exist. She wasn't disappointing her family, she had no bills to pay, she didn't find constant rejection, she didn't have to think about her grandparents. Now she finally understood what Logan felt all those years ago. How angry she was at Logan for disappearing off to Vegas with his friends after his failed business deal. Wasn't that exactly what she was doing here? She knew this had no future. This whole thing wasn't good at all, but dammit, she wanted to feel good again. She wanted to feel _something_ other than anger and sorrow.

Her grin slowly disappeared as she considered where she was. Back from London and back to real life. What happened in Vegas had to stay in Vegas, it just had to. She had to get real and deal with her life in New York. It would be hard, but she could do it. She had her reprieve; she felt rejuvenated, hopeful for the future again. Her phone dinged with a text message and she reached into her handbag to read it.

" _I saw your plane had landed. Hope you made it home safe. Until next time Ace."_

Okay, this may be harder than she thought. Hard to forget Vegas with the constant reminders everywhere. She looked around her apartment and she saw him. She saw him shirtless in her kitchenette at her coffee maker, leaning against the counter to talk to her. She saw him exiting her bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. She saw him lying in her bed, the same way he looked when she got up one night to use the bathroom. Finally, she saw him sitting right next to her on this couch, his arm thrown around her shoulders. Or when she was on his lap with him on this couch a few weeks ago.

 _Don't go there Rory, don't think about that._

But he was always there. The ghost of him in this apartment lingered. Amazing how he could leave his mark on people and places. Logan was unforgettable like that. He was only here for a grand total of what, seventy-two hours at most and he left that large of a mark? Rory sighed, knowing she had to do something she had been putting off for a while.

"I have to get out of this apartment."

 **_End of Part One_**

* * *

 **AN:** Part one is complete, or as I like to think of it, a very long prologue. Remember, I've changed some things are changed for plot reasons.

Thanks for reading!

This is an updated version of the chapter that was first posted in January 2017.


	8. Little Toy Soldier

**AN** : _Yes, I am finally posting the beginning of my rewrites. Yes, this also means a big update is coming._

As always, thanks for the reviews, follows and favorites. We are in revival territory – well, almost. Remember, I've changed some aspects of the revival timeline for story flow, but nothing major is changed.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own this show, but I do own a fake Christmas tree.

 **Chapter 8: Little Toy Soldier**

Logan Huntzberger was nervous.

He sat on a bench watching the people exit the terminal, his foot tapping quickly against the tile. Sighing, his eyes glanced at the arrivals board once more, noting the plane and time. He knew staring at the screen wouldn't make her appear any quicker; she was due to land in a minute anyway. Growing more restless, he stood, his nerves getting the best of him.

Logan paced back and forth at the side of the hall, out of the way of those rushing past to greet their own loved ones. At least, he hoped she was still a loved one. She was flying out to see him for Christmas, right? He bungled everything up that last time he saw her, once again leaving early before he could say something he didn't mean. Although he thought he was right, he knew she didn't see things that way. He could have handled the situation better, and he intended to tell her that as soon as he saw her.

 _If_ he saw her. She wouldn't be so cruel as to lie about coming to visit, would she? Of course not. She was coming, he was sure of it. But still - the thought lingered.

"Pardon me, sir."

Logan startled at the annoyed voice. While immersed in his inner monologue, he was unaware he had paced further into the walking area, eventually stopping in front of others as he lost himself in his worries. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir," he muttered sheepishly, moving himself off to the side again.

Great, now he was really losing it. That last meeting with his dad muddled his mind, he was sure. Add in his current predicament with Rory - well his predicament with her over the previous six months - and he was sure that he was close to the edge, continually overthinking everything. He surveyed the crowd around him, noticing he had attracted some stares with his behavior. Trying to ignore the curious looks, his eyes focused back at the exit, searching for the flash of brown hair.

"Waiting for someone?" asked a gentleman to his right.

Logan jumped, slightly surprised at the question. Composing himself, he turned towards the old man with a kind smile. "Yeah, someone is visiting me from back home for Christmas. Just a little nervous about her visit, that's all." Was the man dense? He was standing in the arrivals area. It was obvious he was waiting for someone.

"Your girlfriend?"

Logan smiled serenely as he thought of Rory. "Yeah, she is." He still couldn't get over it. His Ace was spending Christmas with him. Two weeks of them alone together: no family, no work – and most importantly, no interruptions.

"You must love her quite a bit," the old man added with a grin.

"I do," Logan said facing the man again. Logan had no idea why he was telling the old man this, but he didn't see the harm.

"She must love you quite a bit as well."

"I'd like to think so," Logan joked. He knew Rory loved him of course, although late at night when he was alone he often wondered how much she did. It used to scare him, the depth of his feelings for her. Not anymore. Now he just hoped that they were on the page.

"I may not know her, but I can tell you she does."

Logan shoved his hands in pockets, bemused at the old man's comment. "You seem pretty sure."

The man shrugged. "Your American, yes? And she is coming from the states?" At Logan's nod he added, "if she didn't, she wouldn't be flying all this way to spend the holiday with you. However, she _is_ coming, and I reckon you want to make sure everything will be perfect for her trip."

Logan stared. "Am I that transparent?"

The man nodded to Logan's feet. "You wouldn't be wearing a hole through the floor with your nerves right now if you felt otherwise." Logan raised his brows at the man's perception. Okay, maybe the old man had a point. Logan did want to make sure everything was perfect. She was spending the holiday away from her family; he wanted to ensure the sacrifice was worth it. Rory deserved to have the perfect holiday.

"I'm right, aren't I?" He chuckled. "I may be old, but I know exactly what you're feeling. It was years ago, but I've been there before." The man paused and looked out once more at the arriving passengers, casually surveying the crowd until turning his attention back to Logan. "It really is the most romantic season. There is nothing that compares to spending the holidays with the ones you love. I know I cherished every Christmas I spent with my girl. Even the one we spent together before she became my wife. That was the most special one of all," he said pointedly.

Logan tried his best to reply to the man's insinuation. "That's not… I'm not," he floundered, his mouth open trying to form the words. "We're too young to think of think right now," he eventually recovered, thinking of a quick excuse. Sure, he often thought of their future together, but they needed to have their lives a little more organized first. Like living in the same city for one.

It was the old man's turn to raise his brows to Logan. "It's not about age, it's all about knowing." At Logan's puzzled look he continued, "it's when you look at her on Christmas day and realize that you want to spend every future Christmas with her by your side. Something tells me you already feel this way."

Logan's face was serious, cautious not to show how the man's wise words had affected him. "Maybe it's not age, per se. I just - we have to be ready, fix some things. It's a big step."

"May I offer you some advice?" the man asked, though Logan thought to himself that since he'd been doing it for the last few minutes, what was the harm in having him continue? He nodded back, staring at the old man. "It's a big step, but no one is truly, perfectly ready. Anyone that tells you that is lying. You can be forty years old and still not ready.

"Marriage is all about adapting. It's a significant change when one is used to always thinking of themselves first. You're living with another person, and you must be willing to share every bit of your life with them. Was I too young? Sure, but we made it work because we wanted to make it work. When I think about it, I was too young to get married at twenty, but you know what? I had fifty-five years with my wife, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. It wasn't enough in the end."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Logan replied, not sure of what else to say.

"Thank you, but it's okay," the man waved off. "What I meant was, yes, I would have loved more time with her, but I treasure all those years and all those holidays we did have together. None of it was a waste. Plus I have a feeling you are a bit older than I was then."

"I get what you mean," said Logan with a smile. "Thanks."

"Eh, what's the point of getting to be my age if you can't offer some friendly advice now and then?"

Logan chuckled. "I wouldn't know sir." He paused to look at the arrivals board again, noticing that the flight from Newark arrived ten minutes ago. She would be showing soon, allowing for some time to get off the plane and to walk through customs. "Who are you waiting for, if I may ask?"

"My granddaughter. She's been living in Australia of all places. I offered to pick her up for my daughter. I'm hoping to surprise her. She's expecting her mum, not me. She should be coming soon; her plane arrived almost thirty minutes ago." The old man glanced at the arrivals entrance, his eyes brightening. "Actually, I think I see her now. It was nice talking to you."

"And you too. Thanks - and Merry Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," replied the old man with a grin before rushing off to meet his surprised granddaughter. They enveloped each other in a big hug; the reunion bringing a broad smile to Logan's face. He was right - the holidays were meant to be spent with those you love.

Logan remained there, going over his plans for her visit for seemingly the thousandth time, waiting for her head to appear in the hall. He kept returning to his apology, repeating the words he had memorized on the way over. _I'm sorry. I should have listened to you. It wasn't right for me to say those things. Though I wish you didn't put me in that position, I understand why you thought it was necessary. I only hope to make it up to you and handle it differently in the future._ Surely that would be acceptable, right?

He looked up again, watching the parade of men and pass his view. He saw her, and he stood closer to the exit, his smile growing as he waited for her to spot him. Finally she did, her walk increasing as fast as her luggage would allow. She dropped her bags and flew into his arms, Logan catching her quickly and holding her off the floor. She wasn't upset with him if she greeted him this way, he supposed. "I've missed you so much," she said, her voice muffled from pressing her face into his neck.

"It's been two weeks Ace," he chuckled back into her hair. God knows he missed her too, but he always liked to tease her.

"I still missed you," she replied as he slowly set her down on the floor. She kept her arms around his neck; his own were around her waist still gripping her tightly to him. "You live closer now, so I've been spoiled by your frequent visits. Two weeks is a long time again. At least it isn't months."

"I missed you too," Logan said before finally leaning down and capturing her lips in a kiss. She tightened her hold around his neck, staying in their embrace a little longer than was entirely proper but Logan was beyond caring. Screw what people saw. The old man was right: this was the most romantic season. He finally drew back from the embrace, brushing her hair back as he asked, "how was your flight?"

"Long, horrible food. I read a bit and got some work done," Rory answered as he helped her gather her luggage.

"Work? You're on vacation Ace. Work is verboten."

"I was working on making plans for our trip here if you must know."

"What did I tell you? I didn't want you to stress during exams. I would handle the festivities." At her frown, he added, "but I'm open to suggestions, of course." She grinned and kissed him on the cheek, following him out of the building. "I assume this means you didn't get any sleep."

"Nope! Too excited to see you again."

"Well, I would be lying if I didn't admit I had trouble sleeping last night."

"Aw, how sweet," she teased. "You were excited too."

"Damn straight. Now I believe it's time I took you back to my place," he said, his head indicating to the cabs out in front.

"You really know how to make a girl swoon, Huntzberger. Lead the way."

Logan unlocked the door to his flat, pushing it open and allowing Rory to walk in first. "Welcome to my home away from home," he said, following her inside. He was eager to share this part of his life with her, though a bit nervous as well. He didn't know why; they had lived together last spring, and she helped him choose his new place in Manhattan. He supposed it was because this was the first place he lived in out on his own away from his family, where he really became an adult. He was sharing a part of his life she didn't have the ability to witness yet. That would all change these two weeks, though. He planned to show her how he survived without her back then; they'd go to the pubs he found nearby and the cafe where he got his coffee. He waited for to say something about his place, not wanting to bother her perusal by talking first.

"It's nice," Rory said as she touched a nearby chair. "Not as cold and modern as I thought. A little devoid of personal effects, though."

"Well, it does belong to the company. I was just borrowing it." Logan walked over to her, grabbing her free hand and giving it a slight squeeze. He missed being able to touch her whenever he felt like it, even for something as simple as holding her hand. "I did box up most of the stuff I brought over before I left. I only have a few more things to pack up, and I'll send those along at the end of our stay."

Rory smiled at him, her gaze once again returning to survey the living room and open kitchen. "Logan, where's your tree? Where are all of your decorations?" she asked with a frown.

"I was hoping you'd help me with that." It was true. He held off anything to do with Christmas so far because it just didn't seem _right_ without her here to help him. He wanted to do this perfect, and for as little as he had ever celebrated the holiday, he didn't trust himself to make it so.

She looked at him sadly. "I promised my mom I wouldn't celebrate Christmas. That didn't extend to you. You could still decorate. You've been here for a week already."

"I was working. Besides, I figure we'll go shopping tomorrow."

"But I promised her," she repeated.

"Ace, think about it," he began, placing a hand around her waist and another on her shoulder, lightly playing with the ends of her hair. "You _are_ spending the holidays with your boyfriend. You really think your mom expects you not to celebrate with me?"

"Well, I don't know," she said biting her lip.

"Please Ace, I've been excited about this since June. I won't celebrate it if you don't celebrate it with me," he pleaded, brushing her cheek with his thumb as he palmed the side of her head.

"Okay, I guess we can," she answered shyly. He leaned down to give her a gentle kiss, stroking her cheek again with his thumb.

"You're in luck mister because I am a holiday expert," she said excitedly after they broke apart. "Trust me, we are going to have the best Christmas ever. The Christmas to beat all Christmases."

"It won't take that much for me, I assure you," Logan said seriously. All the holidays in the Huntzberger household were notoriously stuffy. Rory looked at him sadly before leaning up to kiss him again, this time deeper and longer. They broke away panting, Logan smiling down at her. "See? Already a million times better."

Rory returned his smile. "It's going to be great." She walked away from him, walking around the room and unbuttoning her peacoat. Logan walked over to help her, taking her coat and hanging it up in the coat closet.

"Rory, before anything else, I want to apologize," he began after he joined her again.

"Logan," she interrupted.

"No, let me say this first." He paused and took a deep breath, repeating the words he had carefully constructed before her arrival. "I'm really sorry. I should have listened to you. It wasn't right for me to say those things at dinner. Though I wish you didn't put me in that position, I understand why you thought it was necessary. You were thinking of your friend's feelings, and I ruined that. I only hope to make it up to you and handle the situation differently in the future."

"Did you have that memorized?" she asked with a frown.

"Well, kind of. I wanted to make sure I remembered what I wanted to say. Plus I'm trying this new thing where I don't blurt out things I don't mean and perhaps upset you in the process." He paused before he continued further, although a bit apprehensive. "There's more."

"More?"

"I might have been a little jealous," he rushed out.

"Why would you be jealous? There's nothing to be jealous of," she asked confused.

"Well, you were friends with Marty first, and I wasn't getting to see you that often. I knew he had feelings for you back then, but I didn't know he still carried the torch until you mentioned it. It was my own insecurities coming through, and you were right - it was like I had to mark my territory even though I knew I didn't need to. It was dumb - I was dumb."

Rory sighed. "Well, it wasn't entirely your fault you know."

"But Rory…"

"No, you were right to be upset with the way I was acting. I was her friend, and it wasn't fair to her. I should have shut it down the first time he acted like he didn't know me. The bigger person in me should have stood up for her." She briefly looked at the floor, before glancing up at him shamefully. "I was awful. I just hope we can be friends again."

"I have a feeling you will be, especially once she dumps his ass."

"Logan," she chided. "But he really was sweet to her. She really liked him."

"Yeah, but that was shitty of him. She deserves better," he said seriously. He smiled then and added, "I like her. I like that you're branching out of your comfort zone."

"She's definitely one of a kind," she said smiling back. Rory yawned, her fatigue showing. Logan wondered how long it had actually been since she had slept. He knew how excited she would get about things and would frequently sleep very little the night before. He suspected she had been up for over 24 hours.

"Come on, I'll show you the bedroom," he said as he reached down to grab her bags.

"My, what methods of seduction. Usually I require a dinner first," she laughed, grabbing her other bag and following him.

"Later, I promise," he returned with a deep chuckle and a wink. "Here is the bedroom." He set her suitcases up on the small dresser for her, allowing her easy access. The room was also modern and sparse; it often felt like a hotel room more than anything. "The bathroom is through there," he said indicating to the door.

"So this is where the mighty Logan Huntzberger sent all his naughty texts."

He smirked. "Some of them - not all." He winked again, and she rolled her eyes.

"I don't even want to know." She walked over to unzip her suitcase, taking her toiletries bag out first. She yawned again as she set the small bag on the bed, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion.

"Okay, I believe that means you need a nap," he advised, removing the large pillows and turning down the bed for her

"No, I just got here!"

"Ace, I don't want you falling asleep during dinner! I have plans for tonight. I know that you probably want to shower, get rid of that gross plane feeling."

She nodded slightly. "Well, I do want to do that."

"Good. I'm just going to answer some emails for work. We'll leave around five if that's okay," he said waiting for her agreement.

Another yawn. "Okay, sounds good." She removed some items from her toiletries bag, walking into the bathroom. Logan turned to leave and was almost through the door when he heard her voice from the bath. "You know Logan," she began before walking back into the bedroom. "You can always join me then go answer your dumb work dork emails."

"I thought you were tired?" he teased with an eyebrow raised. She walked over to him, bringing his head down for a deep kiss. It was over too quickly for his liking, Rory pulling back with her own teasing look. "Don't start something you can't finish Ace," looking down at her seriously.

She stepped away and playfully shrugged her shoulders. "Your choice." She walked back to the bath, taking off her top as she did so. He only had a glimpse of her bare back and bra before she disappeared. He didn't need any more convincing. He'd choose Rory over emails any day.

"Well, I better make sure you don't fall asleep in the shower," he said, removing his own sweater as he followed her.

* * *

Rory shuffled into the kitchen next morning, sliding into the chair at the table across from Logan. "Hey work dork, it's vacation. You're supposed to sleep in. Any sort of work is verboten, remember?" she said, repeating his words from yesterday. She yawned loudly and rested her head on her arms.

Logan smirked over the salmon-colored paper of the _Financial Times_. "I've become so responsible that I can't sleep in anymore I guess." Setting the paper down, he stood up and walked over to the coffee maker, pouring her a large cup. He handed it to her with a kiss on her head, Rory gratefully taking it from him.

She held the cup under her nose, inhaling deeply and sighing. "I love you," she said before taking a sip. "This is excellent coffee."

"It came highly recommended," he replied as opened his cabinets, removing a bowl and a plate. Rory was too focused on her coffee and wasn't watching what he was doing in the kitchen. He poured her cereal and gathered her pastry, grabbing the small container of milk as he walked back over to her. He set the breakfast in front of her, waiting for her to realize. "Bon appetit, Ace."

She frowned in confusion before looking up at him. "Oh my god, is this what I think it is?", she asked, grabbing the bowl for closer inspection.

"Lucky Charms with a side of Pop Tart."

"This must be true love," she said in awe before breaking off a piece of the pastry. "Coffee and junk food. You really are the perfect man."

"Eh, I try." He left her to eat, and he picked up his paper again, waiting until she was almost finished to bring up his plans. "So Ace, first day in London. Are you ready to show this man how to do some Christmas shopping?"

She smirked. "Oh, I hope you're ready, mister."

They headed out a little after nine, ready for a busy day. Logan had initially suggested a trip to Harrods, but Rory quickly shot him down, claiming they needed to have a regular holiday. She said that it would be too similar to where his mom and her grandmother would shop and that was all the convincing he needed. Instead they ambled along Oxford Street, having to make one trip back to the flat after lunch because their hands were so full. After a quick dinner at a local cafe that evening, they returned to the flat to begin their decorating.

"I never knew that stringing up twinkle lights on a tree was so time-consuming," Logan told Rory as he laid lights on the bough. Classic holiday music played from the stereo on the shelves, playing one of the CDs Rory had bought that day to set the mood. "You simply cannot decorate without the ambiance," she said authoritatively while they stood in the aisles of Selfridges earlier that day.

"It is a chore we must all face. At least they are right out of the box, so you don't have to untangle them."

"See, you say it's a chore, yet I seem to be the only one working," he said with a grin.

"Excuse me, I am the teacher here. How will you learn if you let me do everything?"

"Well, at least this is done," he responded as he finished laying the last strand of lights. "We can hang the ornaments together."

"Very true." She opened the boxes of decorations they had bought that day. "Now, normally we'd have our collection of cheesy ornaments to put on the tree, but you're new at this, so we have to go with the standard matching fair. Don't worry, though, you still have time."

"Where do I buy these cheesy ornaments, oh wise one?" he teased.

"Anywhere you can find them," she began, hanging the first ornament on the branch. "The goal is to have every one of them unique. They can be weird, they can make you laugh, or they can be sentimental. They just have to mean something to you so that when you look at them years later, you'll remember why you have them."

"Well I have to say, Ace," said Logan almost an hour later. "It looks very festive in here."

Rory took a final sip of her hot chocolate, nodding in approval. "Indeed, although there's still more to do. At least we have the stockings up now too."

Logan took her cup, walking over to the sink and rinsing it. "Come on, we have to get to bed. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Rory frowned. "You still haven't told me what it is we're doing."

"I know," he grinned. "I don't plan to, either."

"I don't like surprises."

"Of course you do. It's one of the reasons you're dating me," he replied, walking back into the living room and leaning down to look through the bags. "Ah, here it is," lifting a small green branch from inside.

"Logan, if you want to kiss me all you have to do is ask. I'm not averse to it. Nor did you need to buy eight pieces of mistletoe."

"Hey, this is me in the holiday spirit!" he exclaimed, standing up and joining her side. "Christmas is not complete without mistletoe," he added smirking.

He held a sprig over her head, leaning down to brush his lips over hers. "Okay, you got your kiss," she joked after he drew back. "We can hang that in the morning."

"Nah, I think I'm going to hang it now." He walked away from her then, Rory staring at him in confusion.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Oh, I'm going to hang this piece on the headboard. I think that is a perfect place, don't you?" he said as turned to leer at her.

"Logan!" she called, following him down the hall. "Is that really necessary?" she asked as she watched him affix it to the headboard.

He smiled, walking back over to stand in front of her. He tilted his head, staring at her before finally lowering his lips to hers. She reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck, his own hands coming to grip her sides. "Whatever I can do to get more of that," he said when they separated for air.

"Like I said, all you have to do is ask," she murmured, smiling up at him before dragging his head back towards hers.

* * *

"Oh, I haven't done this since I was a kid with my mom," Rory said uneasily as she stared out at the outdoor rink the next day. "I'm terrible."

"You'll be okay," said Logan glancing at her. "I'm an excellent skater."

"I don't think you'll be saying that when I slip, dragging you down then falling on you," she muttered back, following him to the rental stand.

"Relax, Ace," he said squeezing her hand. "I've got you. Plus, it's romantic right? We'll have to hold onto each other, rely on each other, trust each other..."

She pursed her lips in mock annoyance. "Well, you got me there." They rented their skates, Logan helping Rory with her laces. She wobbled as she walked to the entrance, Logan helping to stabilize her with an arm around her waist. He guided her onto the ice, first skating backward guiding her with both hands. He waited for her to grow comfortable before he dropped one hand and returned to her side.

"You're really good at this," Rory said to him seriously.

"Well, I am from Connecticut." Logan laughed at her annoyed look. "No really, I played hockey some growing up. And not to brag, but I was on the hockey team one year at boarding school. Kept me out of trouble, see. I swapped detention with the penalty box."

"Really? Huh." She paused, looking deep in thought. Logan knew she was probably trying to imagine him in the uniform playing with a team. "I'm surprised you were in one school long enough to stay on for a full season, actually."

"I wasn't that much of a delinquent," he laughed. At Rory's disbelieving face he added, "I'm actually a good player. I made some wicked dekes," he joked in a mock Boston accent.

"I'm going to pretend to know what you just said," she muttered. They skated some more laps, Rory quiet before she said, "I feel awful that I never knew this. I knew you liked sports and you were athletic, but I thought you just played for fun."

"There's always more to me, Ace. Don't worry about it. We never actually talked about high school before."

"What other sports did you play?"

"Tennis, lacrosse, soccer, basketball," he listed off, remembering all the teams he was on as a kid. "It was a way for me to get out of the house before I was sent off to boarding school. I played tennis because I hated golf, so I ran off to the courts when I was dragged to the club."

"You are quite a talented man," she replied grinning at him. She slipped then, struggling to maintain her balance. Logan managed to hold her up, smiling down at her as she caught her breath. "My hero too, apparently." His only answer was a smirk.

When Rory began to complain about her tired legs, they broke for an early lunch. He still refused to divulge his plans, once again dragging her off and surprising her at the Christmas market. Rory delighted in all the handmade gifts, picking out items to bring home to her mom and dad. Logan watched her with a smile on his face, happy to see her enjoying the market so much. "Ooh Logan, come here," she called, her focus on a table of handmade goods.

"What am I looking at?"

"Remember when I was saying last night that you needed to buy your own ornaments? These are just the type!" she said excitedly, lowering her head to peruse the table's contents.

"Wow," he said, picking up an ornament to look at it carefully. "I can't believe these are all handmade."

"Pick out some you like! I'm going to get this for mom. She'll get a kick out of this angel dressed as a go-go dancer."

Logan surveyed the table, looking for ornaments that stood out to him. He remembered her words from last night, telling him he needed to find something that had meaning to him. He saw some more oddly dressed angels, a rockstar Jesus and a wreath made out of marijuana leaves, but still nothing caught his eye. It wasn't until he saw the collection of nutcracker ornaments that he paused. When he was young, Honor always begged for their mom to take them to see the Nutcracker. Logan had little interest in the ballet, but he remembered that Honor would always dance around and practice with her dolls in the playroom after the performance. He had few good memories of Huntzberger holidays, however thinking of Honor always brought a smile to his face.

The booth had several varieties of nutcrackers to choose from. He first picked the classic red-suited soldier; this would be for Honor and the Christmases past. He found another, this one Queen's Guard, to help represent his first Christmas with Rory. His final selection was one dressed as a bobby. He couldn't help but think of Finn in costume, remembering the day they interrupted Rory's class for his prank. Rory nodded in approval at his choices, smiling as he told the story of Honor, but he remained mum on the meaning of the other two.

"See," Rory said to Logan as they left hand in hand. "You're getting the hang of this Christmas spirit thing."

"And we're only two days in. I'm a quick learner. I must have a great teacher," he joked, grinning at her as they hurried in the cold. "Now, let's get back to the flat. We can put these on the tree and then we need to change for our night out."

"Ooh, are you finally going to tell me what we're doing?"

"Well, we're going to an early dinner first. Then we're going to a Christmas Panto. Now, I know it's kind of childish, but they're a big deal here, and I want to make sure we hit everything."

"Oh, I know what that is," her eyes bright with excitement. "That actually sounds great, thank you," she said sincerely. "You're really going out of your way to make sure we do everything."

"It's Christmas in London, Ace. We have to make the most of it."

* * *

They spent the remainder of the week sightseeing around London, making sure to visit the museum and the library before they closed for the holiday. They huddled together as they listened to carolers at Trafalgar Square, and casually shopped on Oxford Street looking for more holiday cheer. They spent Christmas Eve attempting to bake cookies, even though most batches weren't very good. It didn't matter; they had fun smearing flour on each other's faces. They woke late Christmas morning, exchanging gifts over coffee. They ended up making love lying among the wrapping paper on the floor next to the tree, not an entirely comfortable situation but Logan wasn't about to complain. The rest of the day was spent watching Christmas specials before they finally got up to make their holiday meal. The two of them worked together to create the perfect Christmas dinner, and as they ate their meal in the candlelight, Logan thought that this was the most delicious holiday meal he ever had.

Late Christmas Day found them entwined on the couch, wrapped up in the duvet from his bed. Rory had fallen asleep some time ago, the excitement of the day catching up with her. Logan himself was too pensive, replaying the last week of her visit. He had never had such a Christmas before. He knew it would be spectacular from the moment he invited her back in June but in his wildest dreams, he never imagined this. He never saw himself so joyous, so content. He felt as if he was George Bailey, finally understanding how wonderful life and the holiday season could be.

The soft glow of the tree lights illuminated the living room, allowing Logan to look out over the festive decor the two of them managed to complete this week. He smiled at the R and L stockings hanging above the fireplace, remembering how they emptied them earlier today, laughing over the trinkets they had bought each other. He finally looked down at her sleeping face, gently brushing her hair off her forehead. The rainbow tree lights played across her pale skin, creating a kaleidoscope of colors.

He wanted to remember her just like this - what she looked like, the warmth of her body and how she made him feel at this moment. He hoped that every future Christmas would be just as perfect. However, if he was able to spend every Christmas with her, he knew they would be.

* * *

Brooklyn - December 2, 2015

"I've decided to move out of my apartment," Rory confidently announced one evening over the phone with Paris.

"Good, that place is a shithole," responded Paris in her typical blunt manner.

"Paris! It's not that bad," Rory exclaimed, wincing as she caught sight of her kitchen faucet leaking once again. Her choice of apartment could have been better, but as always, the circumstances surrounding her initial choice demanded it. It was all she could afford - or was able to afford - when she first moved to New York.

"Oh, give me a break. There are bugs everywhere. For a reason that only God may know, things stick to a single wall. I don't know how the hell you can even call that counter a kitchen either."

"It's a kitchenette, and it's supposed to be small," she defended. The counter had room for her coffeemaker and a plate of food, that was all she needed. "You've seen places here. It always could have been worse. I could have lived all these years in a windowless studio."

"Well, whatever. Just please tell me you're moving out of 'Hipster Haven' and into a suitable neighborhood."

Rory rolled her eyes at Paris' common quip. "There is nothing wrong with the neighborhood Paris." Sure it wasn't as affluent as the area Paris lived in, but Rory liked it. It had character.

"Uh huh. I know it's the in thing right now, but I'd like to see you move out of your Lena Dunham _Girls_ phase please."

"I know that Paris but uh, about that. You see, I don't know where I'm moving yet," she rushed out, unsure how to broach the next topic with her friend.

Paris gave a sarcastic chuckle. "You seem to have really thought this move through."

"No, it's just - I haven't found another place yet, that's all. Which leads me to my next question - when I'm in town, could I possibly stay with you until I find a place?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's fine. Not like you'll be a bother since Doyle is gone all the time now."

Rory sighed in relief. She had a place to stay in New York. One issue sorted. "Okay and um, could I send just a few boxes there? Small ones. You know, just of clothes. Things I will need for business in the city."

"Sure, that's fine." Paris said nothing more, and Rory heard only the static of the silence. Figuring Paris was done, Rory was about to offer her thanks and goodbye before Paris spoke again. "So, you've been pretty incommunicado."

"Have I? Didn't realize," she answered evasively. She and Paris often went through long periods without speaking. It was the nature of their jobs; they'd often go through busy periods where their personal lives fell by the wayside.

"It's been a month and a half. I've been worried." Rory could hear a note of concern in her voice, surprising her. Maybe Rory had been remiss.

"I'm doing better. It was hard there for a while, but I heeded your advice."

"You did?" replied Paris intrigued.

"Yeah, you were right. I needed to get my ass in gear." Rory paused before continuing. Logan was the only one so far who knew about her recent success. She supposed Paris deserved to know as well. "I've had a piece published in _The Guardian_ , an article coming out in the _New Yorker_ and I'm currently working on some political pieces that are going to have me traveling again. Oh - and I got myself a meeting at the _Times_!"

"I'm really happy for you, Rory," Paris replied sincerely. "I'm glad it's worked out for you. My office gets the _New Yorker_ in the waiting room, so I'll have to keep a lookout."

"You should also know that I took your other advice. I sort of have a mentor now, and I talked to him about a possible book. Then I spoke about it with another friend of mine in the business, and they think it's an excellent idea," she added ardently.

"What did I tell you? This is great news. See, you should always listen to me. I can be your Gandalf to your Frodo. " Paris said. Rory could tell she was smiling on the other side. "Rory?"

"Yeah Paris?"

"You sound happy again. I'm glad."

She grinned. "I am."

"Well, whatever else is contributing to this good mood, keep it up. Sad Rory is kind of a bore."

Rory rolled her eyes at Paris' blunt comment. "Will do."

Rory called Lane next, who was excited to hear that Rory was moving on in her life. She and Zach had only visited once when they were in the city for a concert, Zach eager to know about all the "rock n' roll" hangouts near Rory's place. Lane loved the idea of having Rory coming to stay, claiming that it would be like when they were kids and they had a sleepover - if her mom had allowed it. Lorelai was just as enthusiastic, as she never was a fan of Rory's current living conditions. Rory reiterated that she was not moving home, merely saving money on storage. Anything that didn't fit would go to Luke's rarely used apartment above the diner. Lorelai once again asked when Rory intended to visit home again, and she gave a noncommittal answer, claiming that she was too busy and would just have her boxes shipped there. It was when she was talking to Logan later in the week that she realized she hit a bit of a snag in her plans.

"So you're getting rid of everything?" Logan asked as she slowly packed a small box of books with one hand while her other held the phone.

"I never really had much here to begin with. Just a few pieces of furniture from Ikea. There's plenty of people I can find to buy it quickly. I'm sending the most valuable items to my mother's, while my clothes will be spread out among friends, depending on whom I'm staying with at that time."

"Huh," he replied. Confused, Rory asked him what he wasn't saying.

"Well, how many bags do you plan to travel with?"

"One suitcase, one small carry-on duffel and my messenger bag."

"Rory," Logan began, his voice serious. "Why didn't you ask me?"

"Well I was going to," she said nervously, "but then I thought better of it, I guess. I just - I was afraid to ask you."

"I told you when I was there last time that I wanted you to feel comfortable telling me these things."

Rory bit her lip, considering his words. "I could do it. It would make sense."

"It would. You're flying out again soon and you expect to spend a lot of time here in the coming months working on your special project. You'll need the clothes."

"You would really be okay with that?" she asked, still surprised by his offer.

"It isn't a problem. Whatever I can do to help, to make it easier for you."

"Well," she answered smiling. "I'll let you know when I send it out. It will only be two or three boxes."

"Looking forward to it Ace. Talk to you soon."

* * *

"Hey Paul, thanks for coming over," Rory said as she greeted Paul at the door to her building.

"Not a problem!" he responded merrily, following her inside and up the stairs. "Figured I could help and then take you out one last time before you flew out again."

"Still, it was really sweet of you to offer. I know it's never fun to clean." She opened her door and stepped inside, making sure to maneuver around boxes.

"Yikes, uh... it's messy," Paul exclaimed as he accompanied her into her apartment.

"Yeah, it is," she replied sheepishly. Paul closed the door, walking around a box to join her.

"So," Rory said brightly. "I just need some help finishing up the kitchen. Then we can finish up the bedroom and the rest of my clothes. I've already packed up most of my clothes and sent them off to friends' places. All the stuff that's left is going to my mom's. I've pretty much set everything out, all that's left to do is box it all up," she paused, grimacing as Paul tried to navigate himself around her junk on the floor, "and perhaps pick up my floor in the process."

"Well, let's get started then." The two worked diligently, finishing up her kitchen in a short amount of time. They moved to the bedroom, Paul helping her clean out her dresser. They chatted while they worked, Paul telling stories from work while Rory nodded along, somewhat listening.

"I can tell you I'm really excited about New Year's Rory. You know that friend's party I was telling you about? Well, they are all really looking forward to meeting you. They say I talk about you too much to have never met you before. You're still planning to come, right?" Paul asked as he helped her box up the last of her clothes.

"Oh yeah, definitely. Sounds like it will be fun," Rory answered with a smile. "Now I just have to clean up the floor. The truck is coming by Sunday to send these boxes to my mom's place. I sold the furniture to a college student, and he and his friends are coming by Saturday. I need to make sure they can get around." They set about picking up the trash and other various things Rory had thrown to the floor in the years she had lived there. She wound up on her belly, trying to remove trash from under her bed.

"Hey Rory, you want this right? I found it on the floor in the corner under some old papers." Rory lifted herself off the ground, looking over the bed where he stood on the other side. He was holding up the charm bracelet she impulsively bought months ago. She hadn't thought about it since she threw it off to the side when she heard about Logan's engagement. "Rory?"

"Yeah, uh. I'll take it." Paul leaned over, and she gently took it out of his hand, wondering what to do with it. He began to chatter in earnest again, leaning down to pick more things up off the floor.

"My parents are a little upset I'm not flying home to Chicago for Christmas this year, but I told them it was too difficult with work. I always seem to get delayed here or at O'Hare. No matter, I know we had talked about getting together at your mom's the weekend after the holiday. And I found that tool I was telling Luke about; I've been excited to show him…"

Paul continued to talk, oblivious that Rory was no longer listening. She was staring at the bracelet in her palm, remembering the reason she had bought it. It was such a simple and small reminder of Hamburg; when she'd look at the swan, she'd remember the surprise she felt when she heard him call her name, her joy that evening over their reconnection, and the way he made her feel the months after. It was all so messy now, though. The logical part of her brain told her to throw it away. She didn't need to remind herself of something she couldn't have. Her heart, however, couldn't part with it. She slid it back over her wrist, telling herself she would determine what to do with the bracelet later when Paul had left.

"So I figure I'll drive up to Connecticut that day and meet you there if that's still okay?" Paul looked over at her, frowning when she didn't respond. "Rory, does that sound like a plan?"

She shook herself out of her thoughts, looking up at him and shooting him a quick smile. "Yeah, that sounds great."

Paul gave her a wide grin. "Fantastic, Rory. I'm sure we'll talk about it closer to the holiday."

They finished their cleaning, tying up the trash bags to take down to the dumpster. Just as they were putting on their coats to grab dinner, Rory paused as she had a realization. "Hey, did you see my red dress anywhere?"

He furrowed his brows, taking a moment to think it over. "I'm pretty sure I didn't pack any of your dresses."

"Damn," she muttered softly. She didn't remember any dresses either. "Well, I was planning to wear that for my meeting with Gail tomorrow, but I guess I already sent it away to a friend's."

"Do you want to look through your boxes again?" he asked as she grabbed her purse off a stack of boxes.

"No, let's just go to eat. I'm sure it will show up."

* * *

London - December 17, 2015

Rory arrived in London early Tuesday morning, Logan once again greeting her at the airport and taking her back to his place before he headed off to work for the day. She settled back into her old routine quickly enough, wandering out of his home to research her stories, meeting him in the evening sometimes for dinner. Something about London always put her in a mood to write; she always felt as if she accomplished more while staying in this city. She supposed it was the magical nature of London; the ghosts of the literary greats of the past were encouraging her along. Thursday afternoon she sat in a restaurant with Logan's friend Daniel Larsen, laughing as he told her stories about famous authors he knew.

"I can't believe she said that!" exclaimed Rory laughing, trying to keep her composure at the table.

"I assure you she did," he replied before taking a sip of water. "Jo doesn't have a filter when it comes to telling idiots off, but she says it in such a calm voice that you don't realize she's just insulted them until later."

"I just cannot see JK Rowling, the author of Harry Potter, saying that," Rory said, trying to settle her chuckles.

"Are you working on anything now Rory?" he asked later during their meal.

"I've sent away some small news pieces for some papers. I'm working on a long political piece for the Atlantic that I hope to send their way this weekend."

"Good, good," he replied. "I wanted to let you know I talked to Naomi about what we discussed. I know you talked about it a bit with her already, but I met with her earlier this week. She has to think it over some more before responding, but I believe she's onboard."

"Really? This is great news! If it comes together, this is going to be great."

"She really liked the response from Condé Nast over your piece. Naomi loves her exposure."

"Wow," Rory murmured, taking it all in. "I've wanted this for so long, I just never saw it happening."

"You have talent, Ms. Gilmore. Remember that. You should start writing down possible topics to discuss with her, maybe familiarize yourself more with her work so you can jump right into this if she says yes."

"I will. You can count on it." Rory smiled over the table, her smile falling a bit as she realized the magnitude of the situation. "I've never done this before, though. I'm not sure what I should be doing. Writing a book proposal and sending it off to publishers is a lot more complicated than writing articles for papers."

"I'll help you with some things if you ask. But if you have any immediate questions, you should ask your friend Mr. Huntzberger. He's been through the process before and knows all the tricks. Now let me tell you about the time I met Douglas Adams…"

Daniel continued to gossip away, chuckling as he told another story. Rory listened halfheartedly, for in the back of her mind she kept repeating his comment about Logan, wondering what it was he meant.

* * *

One early evening several days before Christmas, Rory sat on Logan's couch, working on her laptop and absentmindedly watching the news at the same time. She had finished up her Atlantic article earlier and was waiting for Logan to come home from his office. She was searching the internet for more information about Naomi when she heard the front door open from below and Logan calling out her name. "Ace?"

"Upstairs," she called back, still staring at her laptop screen. She heard his steps on the stairs, and as she heard him get closer she asked, "how was your day?"

"Work was fine," he replied, his voice a bit muffled. She looked in the direction of his voice, startled to see him carrying a potted pine tree.

"Where did you get that?"

"Work," Logan answered finally placing it down in the corner. "It was a holiday gift for my office. It was a bit too fragrant in that room so I decided I would have more use for it here. I also wasn't planning on buying a tree so why not, right?" he said smiling as he removed his gloves before unbuttoning his coat.

"It's a Charlie Brown tree," she responded bemusedly, standing up to get a closer look.

"Ah, no it's not," he said smirking. "This tree is a good three feet tall, plus it's not bare." He took off his jacket, laying it over the back of the couch before leaning down and kissing her cheek briefly. "And your day?"

"It went well. I heard back from Daniel and Naomi today. Seems like everything is good to go."

Logan's eyes widened. "That's great! It's finally happening." He hugged her, and she hugged him back, grateful for his enthusiasm.

"Yeah, it is," she smiled. "Hey, I was going to walk down to that place we get takeaway from sometimes. Does that sound okay for dinner?"

"You don't want to go out to celebrate?"

"It's not that big of a deal," Rory said shyly. "I kind of just want to spend the night inside, if that's okay."

"Sure, no problem. You want me to go with you?"

"No need, I could use the walk and the time to think. You probably want to relax a bit now."

"I really don't mind going with you." At her playful glare he laughed and added, "fine, I'll stay here and relax. Be safe."

"I will. See you soon." She went downstairs, put on her coat and walked out of the townhouse, making her way to the nearby cafe they frequented. While waiting for her order, she laughed silently to herself as she remembered what Logan looked like carrying that potted pine tree. He certainly looked as if he was in the Christmas spirit. Not something she would have seen him doing when she first spotted him around the Yale campus. She walked back to his house in the cold drizzle with food in hand, thinking about her visit so far. It was awkward in some ways, with it being so close to Christmas. She often had to remind herself that this was a casual setup, especially when the holiday was filled with so much romance. She cautioned herself to keep focused on her work, though it should be easier now that her plans with Naomi were coming together.

Rory entered the townhouse, surprised to hear music coming from above. She left the food on the kitchen counter, removing her shoes and jacket before going up the stairs. As she grew closer, she realized it was Christmas music. Logan often listened to music on his computer after work, but this was the first time this visit that the music had been seasonal. As she reached the top of the stairs, she found him at his desktop, his Spotify open and Logan humming away to Bing Crosby. "Hey, the food's here."

"Oh great!" Logan turned and smiled, getting up and walking over to her. He had changed into his sweats, looking more relaxed and younger than he had when he first arrived home. "Do you want to change first? I'll set the table while you do so."

"Yeah, that's fine," Rory replied. He smiled and she watched walk down the stairs. She began her way over to the bedroom nook, heading for his dresser to grab a pair of his sweats.

Rory froze mid-way, her eyes focusing on the Christmas tree. In her absence, Logan decorated Charlie Brown with ornaments. It shouldn't have been surprising that he did so, it was what one was supposed to do, after all. At least Logan took the time now; Rory had taught him well. But her heart beat loudly in her chest, her mind falling into distant memories.

Hanging among the rest of the decorations were the three toy nutcracker figurines they had bought all those years ago in the Christmas market. Rory never realized he had taken them back to the States with him, and even more, that he had kept them all these years. Visions raced through her head: the day spent in the markets, the night decorating the tree, Logan's insistence on hanging mistletoe everywhere for maximum results. Had they really been that happy once upon a time? And dare she say it, so in love?

The small, painted eyes were mocking her, daring her to remember.

She tore her eyes away, heading to the dresser, methodically shedding her clothes and searching his drawers for sweats. _Cursed objects._ What a painful, stark reminder of what they once had. She was nauseous, all appetite lost. A punch in the gut, when the night was going so well.

"Ace, you want white wine?" Logan called from the bottom of the stairs.

"Sure," she called in return. Rory shook her head slightly, telling herself to get over it. She had moved on, it was time for the brain to realize it, too.

Later that evening they sat on the couch, Logan reading off his tablet and Rory attempting to focus on her book. He still had the holiday music from earlier softly serenading them as they worked. She tried to finish another page she'd already reread, but she wasn't getting very far as her mind was somewhere else. The fragrance of the pine tree was distracting her, the music rumbling in her head.

Rory sighed, finally giving up. She took her bookmark and closed the book, glancing to her side, studying him. He didn't notice her stare.

"It's very Christmas-y in here tonight," she said eventually, waiting for him to meet her eyes.

"Is it?" Logan surveyed his apartment in bewilderment. "You mean the tree? I guess so." He laid his tablet on the seat next to him, his eyebrows furrowed. "You think I need to add some lights? Perhaps some stockings? I could put some garland on the balcony."

Rory rolled her eyes. "Never mind." She picked up her book again, opening it before closing it quickly and staring back at him. "It's just now you're listening to Bing Crosby of all people - quite a change from your usual alternative rock jams - and humming along. You decorated Charlie Brown, and he just smells like Christmas, and it makes it smell like an air freshener in here…" She paused, stopping her ramble when she noticed his wide grin. "You were teasing me."

"I can read you, remember?" Logan smirked. "I know when you're dying to talk about something bothering you, even if it's minor, and I know exactly what to say to make you ramble. I find it enjoyable."

She huffed. "I'm glad you find it amusing."

He reached over and patted her knee. "Ace, I just enjoy listening to you, that's all. And I admit, I always get a thrill from teasing you."

Rory pursed her lips jokingly, rolling her eyes again. "Well, I guess we all need our fun."

Logan tilted his head, smiling at her. He remained quiet, only content to stare at her, leaving Rory puzzled. "I have something for you, Ace." He smiled again before standing up, walking into his bedroom and into his closet. She heard him rattling through his closet storage, emerging a moment later holding a small wrapped package. "I figured I could finally give this to you now."

Rory looked at him confused, taking the small package from his hands. It was of decent weight and rectangular, while the tag simply read her nickname. "Logan," she said looking up from the present. "I thought we said no gifts?"

"This isn't a gift. This is a…" He sighed, chewing on his lip. "Well, I don't know what it is. Just open it and see."

Giving him one last look before focusing again on the package, she slowly slid her finger under the paper, lifting it up and uncovering the box. Opening the lid of the small box, she found a book laying on the tissue paper. She lifted the book with one hand, slowly running her fingertips over the raised lettering on the front. She traced his name over and over, too in shock to open it and peruse the pages.

"I was hoping it would give you some inspiration," Logan said hesitantly. "I'm not trying to brag or even force you to read it. It's more just some short stories I wrote from my travels and little things like that, nothing much. I know you're going to be writing mostly biographical things with Naomi, but maybe it can give you some ideas for your format." Rory didn't comment but flipped the book over, reading the teaser. "Ace?"

"You wrote a book," she murmured, her focus still on the cover.

"I did."

"When?"

"About six years ago."

She looked back up at him surprised, searching his eyes. "How did I never find out? Why did you never tell me?"

"It's not something I share with a lot of people. It's kind of personal. However ,with your thing now, it seemed like a good time to share."

"Still, I would have liked to know." She glanced back at the teaser, frowning as she read. "Wait, I don't understand. It says that you wrote this collection of essays on your trip around the world. What trip? The trip when you sunk the boat?"

"No." Logan took a deep breath, pausing before he added, "the one I took between Palo Alto and going back to my dad."

"I thought you went to work for your dad right after your job? That's what you told me."

Guilt covered his face. "I lied." He bit his lip at Rory's deepening frown, reluctant to proceed. "My job in Palo Alto only lasted about two years before it ran into some complications. It was during the early stages of the recession, and many tech companies were being acquired left and right. I was let go during the merger. I decided at that point to put all of my things in storage and do something I always wanted to do."

"So you just got up and left?"

"Yeah. Lived out of a backpack for almost a year." Rory's face turned pensive, finally opening the book. "Hey," he said gently, laying a hand on her arm. "Remember when you asked me about my father that time in your dorm room before your internship started? About his lost years?"

"I do, but he was a journalist then, just writing from publication to publication."

"Well, as much as it pains me to compare myself to my father, I was too, although I was mostly writing online. It gave me good experience. I was in Africa when I got the call from Honor. That's when I came back."

"I still don't understand why you didn't tell me this that first night," she replied, trying to mask the hurt from her features.

"It was a complicated story. I didn't feel the need to divulge all the dirty details then." Rory nodded in understanding. "Besides, neither of us were entirely truthful that night to begin with." She couldn't argue with that.

She focused once more on the book, glancing at the first page. She stopped several sentences in, finally understanding. An earlier conversation with Daniel that had left her confused suddenly held new meaning. "This is what Daniel was talking about at lunch."

"Pardon?"

"He said I should go to you with my questions about the publishing process. I guess, now I understand why you've kept in contact all this time. He mentored you when you first came to London, and he continued to do so even in your lost year. He must think very highly of you."

"We're friends," he muttered. "He gave me the idea for the book. He emailed me after reading some of my articles. Told me I shouldn't squander away my potential. Obviously, I was more open to advice from him," he said with a grin, the similarity to Mitcham's common critique not lost on Logan.

Rory smiled back, full of pride. "I'm amazed, Logan."

"It's not earth-shattering work, believe me, but thanks."

"No, I'm serious. This is… wonderful. Thank you for trusting me with this, for telling me about it."

Logan smiled softly, and she could almost see some of the weight lift from his shoulders. "No problem, Ace, and thank you."

* * *

"They said that? They keep backtracking on this. We can't nanny them and force them to do their work for us. We've got enough on our plates as it is. What did Gerald say when you told him?"

Logan shuffled through papers on his desk, talking with a coworker on his mobile. It was the day before Christmas Eve, and Rory and Logan had finished their work and decided to spend the day at his place. However, a crisis at work had him on the phone, where he had been for the last twenty minutes. Rory, tired of hearing his annoyance, walked downstairs in search of food. She found the tin of cookies he had brought from his office, opening the lid and grabbing one. She sat on the barstool for a few minutes, giving herself a reprieve from his call. She heard laughter from upstairs. Supposing it would be okay to return, she grabbed the tin and took it with her; she was sure they would nibble on them while they watched TV.

Logan was near the balcony doors, still talking on the phone when Rory returned. He glanced over quickly when he heard her place the tin on the table before he continued to stare out onto the street. He laughed and grinned; apparently, he was on good terms with his coworker. She leaned against the post near the tree and watched him. He looked so casual, so at ease. She looked at the ornaments on the Charlie Brown tree off to her side, smiling as she remembered the day they were purchased. She only wished their lives could be as carefree as they were back then.

"No, I'm staying here for Christmas." Rory peeked over at Logan, noticing that he was watching her. He grinned before saying," yeah, I'll be around, but only if it's dire. It's a holiday, you know. It means no work." He laughed some more. "You have a good holiday too Robbie," he said finally before ending the call.

"Hey great," said Logan as he walked over to the sofa. "You brought up the cookies."

"I had a craving," she replied.

He sat on the sofa and leaned over to the tin, grabbing a cookie and taking a bite. Rory glanced over at him as he ate, observing the way his jaw muscles moved as he chewed. He was tapping on his phone, thoroughly absorbed in his reply to a message. _More work_ , she thought again. He was so diligent these days. She took a final glance at the toy soldier ornament, thinking to herself how appropriate the selections were back then. He fell in line with the family business after Yale, and he fell in line now. Despite his protestations, he enjoyed his work; she could tell. He was good at it. He was always meant to do it. She only wished he wasn't forced into his duty to his family. She pushed herself off the post and walked over to the table, reaching for another cookie. He finished typing his message and was reading off his phone now, still in deep focus.

"You know, my mom and I would always buy our cookies from the bakery in Stars Hollow." Logan looked up from his phone, intrigued. "Then we'd buy frosting and decorate them, claiming that we made them. Technically we did too," she told him before taking a bite.

Logan looked doubtful. "And they believed you?"

"God no," she chuckled as she was chewing. She swallowed and added, "anyone who knows us knows not eat our food. If they did believe us, well they were probably from out of town."

Logan laughed lightly before grabbing another cookie from the tin. "You and your mom have such odd habits, but entertaining nevertheless."

"We do have some weird traditions," she responded before falling next to him on the sofa. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head

"That doesn't sound too terribly weird, though," he said before taking a bite.

"No, but when you add everything up it does." She paused for a moment, lost in her memories. "After my mom and dad were married, he went crazy decorating our house. He tried to hang up mistletoe in the hallway, but mom told him he had to put in on the ceiling fan."

"Okay, you're going to have to explain that one."

"Turn on the fan, and it becomes a sport, silly." Logan nodded in mock agreement. "Then we put M&M's in our breakfast cereal, a natural combination, you know. I think mom just wanted to do all these weird things as a kid and so she did them with me and everything just sort of stuck." Logan rubbed her shoulder, and she leaned against him, smiling to herself. She looked up at Logan who was staring off into the room, looking pensive. "What's wrong?" she asked finally, worried about his change in behavior.

Logan sighed and gave her a serious look. "Why are you in London, Rory? It's Christmas."

Rory's eyes narrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? I have to work, and you have to work, we're working in the same place during Christmas. So we just so happen to spend the holiday together." Hadn't they talked earlier about the holiday? He never mentioned that it was a problem. Maybe he was regretting not spending the holiday with _her_.

"You miss your mom. I can tell," he said matter-of-factly.

"Of course I miss her, but this isn't high school. I don't live at home anymore. We don't get to see each other very often."

"Go see your mom, Rory."

Rory stared at her legs, picking the lint on her leggings. "I can't. "

"Why can't you?" he asked.

She hesitated before replying. "It's complicated."

"When was the last time you saw her?' rubbing her shoulder lightly.

"The funeral," she answered quietly, still looking down at her fingers.

"Are you avoiding her?" he prodded gently

"No!" she answered quickly, finally sitting up from his side to look at him. He didn't look convinced. "No, I'm not," she repeated, then sighed. "I just... I don't know. It's hard. It's been hard."

"What's hard?" It was his turn to be confused. "You and your mom have always had a comfortable relationship. You're best friends."

"Life is complicated now. She's very happy with Luke and trust me, I'm very happy she's happy. It's well, I can't explain it, but that's hard to be around sometimes. Then there's Grandpa and his... just that too. I'm not ready to face it." He nodded in understanding, subtly encouraging her to continue. "Plus mom keeps thinking that my career is so incredible and going so well and I don't have the heart to tell her otherwise."

"Tell her about it. I'm sure she'll understand."

"I don't think so." She fell back against the sofa, staring out into the room. "She freaked when I dropped out of Yale. She wouldn't understand this at all. She doesn't understand the business. She'll think I'm giving up."

"Rory," he said softly, grabbing her hand to force her to look back at him. "You don't know until you try."

She stared back at him, thinking his words over. She sighed again, her shoulders sagging. "It doesn't matter. I can't go back anyway. I have my preliminary meeting with Naomi about the book on the 29th, plus I'm already flying out back to New York on the 30th. It's just too complicated."

Logan focused over her shoulder, brows furrowed in thought. "How about this?" he questioned looking back at her. "We get you on the first flight out we can. You can spend the time with your mom, leave on the evening of the 27th and come back here in the afternoon on the 28th. Then you'll be all ready to go for your meeting with Naomi."

"I don't know," she responded apprehensively.

"Okay." He leaned over to the coffee table, grabbing his Mac and opening it, quickly navigating to the airline website. "Listen, I'm getting you a ticket right now." Rory opened her mouth ready to argue, but Logan quickly added, "do this Rory. You need to do this," he implored, searching her eyes.

"Logan, that's too much."

He gave her a wry grin. "Merry Christmas Ace." His smile fell, his eyes turning serious once more. "If anything, do this for me. I can't stand to see you so unhappy."

"I'm not unhappy."

"Rory, I see you smile, but you've been sad a very long time. You need your mom. I could tell back in your junior year when you weren't talking to her, and I know now." He went back to his computer, searching for the soonest available opening.

She watched as he chose a flight, filling in her personal details for her. "It's sweet of you to do this," she said leaning against his side again. He smiled down at her for a moment before finishing up his payment.

After a few minutes had passed, Logan closed his laptop and turned to her. "Okay, you're all set to go. You'll leave on the 26th and get one night with your mom. Now I need you to do one last thing for me, Ace."

"What?"

"Call your mom and tell her the good news."

"I will," Rory said smiling back. With her free hand, she reached up to bring him down for a slow kiss. She drew away from him after a moment, her head bowed and eyes closed as she whispered, "thank you."

"Anytime, Ace."

She gave him another brief kiss then a peck on the cheek, smiling as she sat back. "I'll go call her now."

The next two days they spent holed up in his home, watching cheesy Christmas films and drinking tea huddled under a blanket. Later they ate a small prepared meal they preordered from a restaurant, drinking wine and reminiscing about Christmases past. It wasn't a remarkable holiday in any respect, but Rory felt content and happy all the same. When Logan dropped her off at Heathrow on Boxing Day, they embraced a full minute before she departed. "I'll be right here when you get back," he told her. "Have a safe flight and enjoy your visit home," he murmured as she pulled away.

She glanced at him a final time after she passed through security, giving a small wave goodbye. He waved back, his thin lips attempting a smile in return. Her face fell as she remembered her circumstances. She was a masochist, she was sure of it, spending a holiday with him that she knew she could never repeat. The memories would just bring her pain. She turned around from him, walking down the corridor with a renewed sense of purpose. She was off to see her family for Christmas, her _real_ family. She made her choice long ago, and it was time she accepted it.

* * *

Stars Hollow, Connecticut - December 26, 2015

Rory hesitated on the sidewalk, watching the townspeople wander to and fro across the square. Luckily no one had recognized her yet. She spotted her mom on the opposite side of the gazebo, sitting on the steps waiting for her. She willed herself to move, but her fears were holding her back. How was she even going to broach her career with her mom? Lorelai asked no questions when Rory told her she was moving out, though she always suspected Lorelai was holding back. Maybe she could ease into it, get her mom used to the idea of her couch surfing for a bit. Then maybe Rory wouldn't have to say anything if her career picked back up again. Still, she couldn't make that first step just yet.

When she saw her mom, it would be the first time since the funeral. It would mark almost four months since her grandfather passed. So much had happened in that time, so much she couldn't even say. Then tomorrow, she'd have to step inside her grandparents'- no, _grandmother_ ' _s_ \- house again. With a heavy heart, she realized she had put it off long enough, it was time to face the music. But Logan had picked up on her thoughts: she missed her mom. She missed their frequent late-night talks and the humor they shared. She took a step forward and paused again, drawing in a shaky breath.

 _Do this Rory. You need to do this_ , Logan's earnest words from earlier repeated in her mind. How right he was.

She took a deep breath, reminding herself to smile wide. She wouldn't let her mom see her pain. She began to walk, her gait increasing as she gained more confidence.

 _Here goes nothing_.

* * *

 **AN:** As for the holidays – I have no idea if Rory spent Christmas (and Thanksgiving) with Logan, but I have a suspicion. She went to London right after the funeral, missed Christmas and Thanksgiving, and flew in 7 hours from somewhere at the beginning of Winter (it's 7 hours to London, 8 hours back if we go through Newark). Considering she went right back to London after her reprieve in SH, I'm thinking she was spending a lot of time with him, including time around holidays. And I don't understand why Rory wouldn't visit her mom around the holidays if she was still living in the city. And let's be honest – did the revival show Rory as an in-demand journalist? Lol.

 _This chapter is an updated version of the one that was originally posted on February 12, 2017_


	9. Auld Lang Syne

**AN** : _Slightly rewritten, though not by much._

Thank you for the reviews. They mean a lot. Please remember that I've changed the timeline.

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own this show, Robert Burns, "New York, New York," or "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve?"

 **Chapter 9: Auld Lang Syne**

 _When the bells all ring and the horns all blow_

 _And the couples we know are fondly kissing_

 _Will I be with you or be among the missing?_

* * *

New Year's Day - January 1, 2006

 _Maybe it's much too early in the game_

 _Ah, but I thought I'd ask you just the same_

A shrill bell reverberated through the dark apartment.

Logan opened one eye, before scowling and burrowing under the covers. He slid his head under the pillow, throwing one arm over him to muffle the sound. "Oh, fuck off," he mumbled into the mattress, hoping the person ringing the doorbell would give up and leave.

The bell rang for the second time, then a third. Logan's head was hammering against his skull. He wished the person would take the hint. He was not up for visitors today.

The bell rang out for a fourth time, this time the visitor holding down the button for a more extended period before they began to press it repeatedly. Great, at this rate they'd wake his neighbors too.

Logan groaned as he rolled out bed, catching himself before he completely wiped out on the floor. He shuffled his way to the foyer, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The ringing had stopped. Maybe they had left? Wonderful, after they had already disturbed his beauty sleep.

Loud knocks echoed through the apartment. The visitor pounded furiously, the noise aggravating Logan even more.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Logan yelled, grumbling as he reached out to unlock the deadbolt. He yanked the door open, taken aback by the visitor greeting him across the threshold.

"Morning, little brother! How are you feeling?" asked Honor cheerily, taking a sip from her coffee thermos.

Logan frowned at his sister's unexpected arrival. "What are you doing here?"

She brushed past him and stepped into his apartment, clicking her tongue as she surveyed his quarters. Logan hadn't been keeping his apartment as clean as he used to, his lack of visitors removing the need to keep it tidy. "Come right in," he mumbled under his breath, sighing in frustration as he closed the door.

Honor walked into the bedroom nook, ripping open his curtains. "Ah, that's better."

Logan's hands flew to his eyes, shielding him from the sudden intrusion of light. "Goddammit, what is wrong with you?" he grunted. "Can't you see that I'm not up for this?"

Honor rolled her eyes as she walked back to meet him. "Take aspirin. Besides, I prefer to talk to you without feeling that I'm in the," she trailed off, looking around his apartment again, "House of Horrors."

"Still," he said, walking to his nightstand. "Not that I don't appreciate your unwelcome visit, but why are you here?"

"Colin and Finn called. They're worried about you."

"I'm fine," he said shortly, his fingers wrapping around the bottle of pills.

Honor scoffed. "Please, you haven't been fine for the last two months."

"Whatever," muttered Logan, walking past her and into his kitchen.

"People talk, you know. I hear things," she said to his back as she followed him.

"I don't know what you've heard, but it's not important." Logan opened the bottle and shook a few pills into his hand, his other hand reaching for a half-full glass on the counter.

"Uh-huh, sure." Honor paused, watching him swallow the pills. "Despite what I may or may not have heard, I know it's just part of the reason why you've been so miserable."

"I'm _fine_ , Honor," he said, now reaching into the cupboard to find the bag of coffee grounds.

Honor frowned at the mess in the kitchen, noting the dirty plates stacked next to the sink. "You're such an idiot. But no matter, I'm here to help."

"You can go now, Honor," he said as he filled the pot under the tap. "I don't need any of your advice."

"Haven't I taught you anything?" Honor pushed aside the mess on the bar counter, allowing her to place her handbag and coffee thermos down on the countertop.

"Other than how to give myself a manicure?"

Honor grimaced as she picked up a dirty shirt from the barstool, throwing it onto the neighboring stool. She sat down and sighed. "I know you."

"Please, you only think you do." Logan grabbed the bag of grounds and poured them haphazardly into the top of the coffeemaker. Small bits flew out from the side, littering the counter.

"Why did you get so hammered last night?"

Logan slammed the top of the machine, pressing the button to begin brewing. "It was New Year's, Honor. It's what people do."

"No, they party. You sulked. There's a difference."

"Colin and Finn are liars. I partied."

"You're the one lying again," She gave him a critical eye. "I know why you've been upset," she said as she leaned across the counter.

Logan turned to face her, crossing his arms and giving his sister a mocking, inquiring look. "Please, all-knowing sister. Just why?"

"You broke up with Rory?" Honor asked as if it were obvious.

"Wow. Genius," he muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"And since it was New Year's, it bothered you that you couldn't kiss Rory at midnight."

"That wouldn't have happened anyway because _we broke up_ ," he emphasized at the end, pointing his finger at his sister to prove his point.

"But you wish you didn't." Logan gritted his teeth and faced away from her, choosing instead to look out the small window over the sink. "Your silence means I'm right."

"I wasn't meant to be a boyfriend."

"Logan," Honor began seriously. "I've never seen you as content as you've been this past year. Everyone has noticed, and it's obvious Rory is the reason why."

"None of it matters now," he murmured, reaching behind him to grab a mug.

"No, this means it matters the most," replied Honor solemnly. "You love her. You love her _so much_ , and that's why you're so upset."

Logan slammed the cupboard door shut. "Don't you think I know I messed it all up?" he questioned harshly. He leaned over the sink, his arms bracing himself over the counter. "This wasn't supposed to happen, alright?"

"Break up?" asked Honor, confused.

"I wasn't supposed to fall for her," Logan said quietly.

Honor frowned. "No one expects to fall in love."

He shook his head, still not sparing a glance at her. "We weren't dating that long. It was too quick."

"Love is like that. When you know, you know. Shakespeare was onto something with this whole love at first sight business."

Logan looked up at her with a wry smile. "Romeo and Juliet died at the end, or did you forget that part?" He pushed himself off the counter, sighing once more as he looked at his sister. "Like I said. None of it matters anymore. We've gone our separate ways."

"It doesn't have to be like that," Honor stated assuredly.

"What can I do, though?" he asked, a hopeless look in his eyes.

Honor gave him a small smile. "You fight for the ones you love," she declared confidently. "You need to find a way to get her back. Apologize for your many screw ups, apologize for any future screw ups…"

"You see me screwing up a lot," he interjected chuckling.

"Remember? I know you."

The coffeemaker dinged and Logan walked over, filling his cup. He walked over to the bar, standing on the opposite side from his sister. His shoulders sagged and his eyes were downcast. "I don't even know where to start."

"Apologize, beg, even grovel if you have to. She must love you too, right?"

"She said she did. I don't know anymore. For all I know, she hates me."

"You don't know until you try," Honor replied, reaching out to squeeze his hand resting on the counter.

"Thanks, Honor." Logan paused and squeezed her hand in return, before reaching out to grab his cup. As he stared into the brown liquid, he whispered, "I just don't know what I'll do if she says no."

"Well, you've got absolutely nothing to lose then."

* * *

New Year's Eve - December 31, 2006

 _Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight_

 _When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night_

"Are you upset that we didn't go to the river to watch the fireworks?" Logan asked Rory as they sat together on the couch watching the countdown on the television. Their time in London was ending and Rory would be leaving the next day to return home. Logan planned to stay a few extra days so that he could finish packing his belongings to send back to the States. In some ways he was sad to say goodbye the flat; it had marked a milestone in his life. He had grown up here, settling into his career. He had proven to himself that he did have the ability to be successful. But Logan was now living two glorious hours away from Rory, and that was worth more than any of the accolades he would receive at work.

"No," she answered, smiling up at him. "We'd have to be there all day, and then somehow make it back here at a reasonable hour so I'd be able to make my flight tomorrow. This is just as nice," she said, adjusting the blanket over their bodies.

"It is nice." Logan glanced at the screen, watching the thousands of people stand in the cold, patiently waiting for the bells to ring as midnight approached. "And we have access to a toilet, unlike those poor souls."

Rory laughed. "True." She cuddled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder. "We can watch fireworks up close next year if we want."

Logan smiled down at her, as his arm that was thrown around her shoulders drew her in closer. "Yeah, we'll have to do something special."

"We just have to make sure that we'll be together."

"We'll find a way," he murmured, as he turned his head to kiss her hair.

And they would, he was sure of it. When he moved to Manhattan, he promised himself that he would see her as many weekends as he could, and so far he exceeded his goal. Logan didn't think it was possible for Rory and him to grow closer after living together, but the effort they put into making their relationship work when separated by thousands of miles made it stronger than ever before. Emotionally, the two were on a deeper level, the distance forcing them to talk more about their feelings, wants and needs. Still, not all things could be replicated in a phone call or a text. Things he took for granted seven months ago seemed so important now: discussing the day over dinner, watching a movie together, even the act of brushing their teeth in the bathroom while sharing the sink. Trivial matters that meant so much when you were close as they had become. Although he missed the intimacy of falling asleep next to her every night, he cherished every night he could.

What an improvement it was to last New Year's Eve! He looked down at her once more and played with the ends of her hair. The earrings he had bought her for her birthday and New Year's gift glittered in the light of the broadcast. Last year at this time he had been a wreck, and he was thankful that his sister kicked his ass in gear. He knew he loved Rory deeply, but Honor convinced him to fight even though he knew it would be a tough battle.

The past year had its challenges; he wasn't unaware. Logan had lost Rory twice due to his own mistakes but was somehow able to win her back both times. He never wanted to lose her again, and he'd work to no longer be the idiot he knew he could be. Logan knew their relationship was worth fighting for.

It was strange how everything seemed to be coming together for him. Despite his initial hesitation, he began working for his father and found he actually enjoyed it, and even more, he was good at it. He could finally see a future for himself. Just another thing to be thankful for since Rory came into his life, for helping him grow up and find his place in the world. Logan owed Rory so much. She gave up Christmas with her mother to spend it with him, going so far as to share her family traditions with him and to teach him all about the wonder of Christmas. Logan told her several times how much it meant to him that she was here with him, though he often thought she didn't fully understand the magnitude. Did she know how loved he felt these past two weeks, how wanted, how needed? That this was possibly the most memorable event in his short life? He just hoped he could prove it to her with his actions. He knew she enjoyed their Christmas in London, he just wished it would be the one she'd remember for the rest of her life. He knew it would be for him.

Even if the end of the year made him think of the past, all Logan did over these past two weeks was think of the future, of their future. Logan blamed the elderly man in the airport for putting ideas into his head. But Logan knew those ideas had always been there in his subconscious, he just wasn't paying attention.

When Logan and Rory sat in the pool house after they watched that old episode of _The Twilight Zone_ , and as he looked over at her after he explained why this particular episode was his favorite, it suddenly dawned on him how the astronaut could make that decision. And that realization scared him. As talented as Logan was with the written word, he never felt he was able to properly articulate the depth of his love for Rory. Words never seemed enough. A year later when it was time for him to leave for London, he thought if he couldn't tell her, he would just have to find a different way to show her and hopefully she'd understand. As she passionately exclaimed how wonderful the rocket was in June, a weight was lifted off his shoulders. _She knows_ , he marveled that night as he lay in bed. _She sees what I see._ That single phone call gave him the strength to go to work the next day because he knew that he and Rory would be just fine.

While he was in Manhattan looking through the displays of earrings several weeks ago, he passed by the engagement ring display and stopped. A platinum ring caught his eye, one that he knew Rory would love and would look perfect on her hand. The salesman asked if he needed help, the interruption bringing Logan out of his thoughts. _No_ , he thought to himself then. _I don't need to think of that… yet._ But he knew it was coming, one day in the future. He just never thought it would be so soon.

 _23:59_

One more minute of 2006. Logan glanced once more at the woman at his side, his heart filling with love for the girl watching the screen in anticipation. The year truly didn't begin for him until they were back together, several weeks into January when they shared the dinner in the newsroom. Now it would end with her, too. For Logan, all good things in his life began and ended with Rory.

 _30… 29… 28…_

Logan wondered what they'd be doing next year at this time. Will they go to some big event, maybe even Times Square? He supposed it would depend on where they would be living. Maybe they'd live in New York, or even in Connecticut. And if his heart had anything to say about it, maybe she'd be his fiancée by then. But she was right - they'd find some way to be in the same place. They'd been through so much already, whatever life would bring them they'd be ready for, together.

 _11… 10… 9…_

Rory reached forward and grabbed the champagne flutes off the table, handing one to him. When Big Ben began to chime, she leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss, knocking her glass against his afterward.

"Happy New Year, Logan," she said before taking a long sip, her eyes sparkling.

Logan took a sip as well, then put his flute back on the table. He quickly grabbed her flute out of her hand, smirking as he did so. "Did you honestly think you could get away with a kiss like that?"

"I didn't realize you were that starved for attention. It's not like I've been ignoring you the past two weeks," she replied with a roll of her eyes and a smirk to match his own.

"Hey. Come here, you," Logan said, his arm around her shoulders moving to the back of her head to help meet her lips with his own. She sighed into his mouth, her hands traveling up his chest to cradle his head. Even if there were fireworks on the TV, nothing compared to the fireworks he felt when he kissed Rory. They stayed locked together for a long moment, Logan's free hand caressing her hip over the blanket. He drew away before the kiss could grow too heated, holding his head inches away from hers. He waited for her to open her eyes before crooning, "Happy New Year, Rory."

Rory's eyes sparkled, her hands moving from his cheeks to behind his head. "I love you, you dork," she whispered before bringing his lips back down to hers. Logan attempted to reciprocate, though it came out as more of a groan when her tongue pushed gently past his lips. No matter, he was confident she knew and besides, he was bound to repeat it once more tonight. For now, however, he had more important things on his mind.

 _Oh yes,_ he thought to himself as he leaned her back against the cushions. _This year is going to be grand._

* * *

London - New Year's Eve, 2015

 _Maybe I'm crazy to suppose_

 _I'd ever be the one you chose_

"Cheers," Logan said to the bartender, nodding his head to the man before taking a sip of his drink. He turned his side, leaning against the bar to watch the partygoers mingle in the opulent ballroom. God how he hated these things. He scratched at his neck; the collar of his shirt was digging into his skin. His bowtie was too tight - or maybe it just felt like it. These parties always had a way of making him feel suffocated. Their only redeeming feature was the open bar; the alcohol calming him just enough to make it through a night with these people.

"Logan Huntzberger, is that you?" a female voice called from behind.

"Oh Jesus," he muttered, sighing to himself before turning around to greet the older woman behind him. "Mrs. Fairchild! How nice it is to see you again," he answered with a smile, his society manners on full display. His mother would be proud that the etiquette classes stuck after all these years.

"Oh, please call me Agnes. How many times must I remind you?" she chided, patting his arm teasingly.

"Oh, just one more time, I'm afraid," he replied. "How have you been?"

"I'm marvelous. But enough about me, I want to talk about you! So much has happened since the last time we spoke."

"Ah," nodded Logan with a grin, inwardly dreading the following conversation.

"I was just over catching up with your mother. Shira mentioned how well you've been doing at the company and how you've excelled helping your father. She's so proud and I have to admit, so am I! I know you must hear it a lot, but John and I are so proud to see the man you've become. Who knew that the young boy running around would be taking the world by storm? Well, of course _I_ did but that's neither here nor there," she ended with a giggle. "Just had to grow up a little, right?"

"Well, ah, that's very kind…"

"And then she mentioned your recent engagement! I'm so glad you two made it official. We were counting the days until we would hear about you two lovebirds. And your fiancée is just _darling._ "

"Wow, er, thank you," Logan began but was interrupted once more.

"Beautiful girl, so intelligent too. I always said to John, I said that the girl who took your heart would have to be one of a kind, and she certainly is. I will be receiving an invitation to the do, won't I? I hope that's not too forward. Oh silly me, it's just a recent development, so you haven't thought that far ahead, I assume. But you know, you two really need to get started on the preparations. A wedding of this size will require a lot of planning."

"Um, I don't know yet, we really haven't gotten that far." Logan was growing more uncomfortable by the minute, yet couldn't find a way to escape for fear of being rude.

"By the way, how is your sister Honor? I'm so sorry that she couldn't attend tonight, but I've heard she has a new baby girl? And then she has the older boy, correct? How darling. I know she must be an excellent mother. Are you enjoying being an uncle? I know you must be having so much fun. You must just be counting down the days until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on your own living room floor."

 _And on that note_. A flash of brown caught his eye behind her head. _Perfect_. "Mrs. Fairchild, you'll have to excuse me, but I see my fiancée and she is gesturing to me. It was so nice catching up with you. We'll talk soon. I promise."

"Oh, go on," Agnes teased. "Do pass on my congratulations."

"Will do." Logan smiled once more before rushing past to meet the brunette. She was looking around the ballroom, searching for something. She hadn't seen him yet, so Logan surprised her with his approach.

"Oh, Logan!" Odette's hand flew to her chest, relief flooding her features. "Thank God you're here."

"Really?" he asked concernedly, wondering what he could have missed that had her so worried.

"Samuels was reaching for my ass again. Bastard."

"I hope you told him off."

"I moved away quickly, didn't feel the need."

"I wish I was there. I would give him a piece of my mind." Logan surveyed the room, spotting the man in question boasting to a group of gentlemen. He scowled. "Actually, I'll go do it now."

A hand on his arm stopped him. "I don't need you to protect me."

Logan frowned. "I could help you once in a while." Odette shook her head gently, a soft smile gracing her features. Logan knew that look. Odette was fully capable of taking care of herself; she had told him many times to let her handle things. He looked around the room once more, taking another sip of his scotch. "These are really the most pompous and boring people to exist," he muttered.

"Well, they have money," Odette replied with a sigh. "Money is nice."

Logan glanced at her empty hands. "You need a drink?"

"Please."

Odette took his proffered arm, steering him in the direction of the bar Logan had just left. "No, we can't go there."

"Why?"

"Agnes Fairchild is still there; she'll corner me again and drag you in as well." He turned, guiding her to a bar on the opposite side. "We'll go to," he began but trailed off when he saw the guests at the other bar. "Oh no."

"What is it?"

Logan looked over at her, grimacing. "My mom and dad."

Odette noticed his hesitation, before tugging on his arm. "Come on, we can't put it off forever."

Logan's face darkened. He had managed to avoid Mitchum and Shira so far, but he knew he would eventually have to acknowledge them. Hopefully, their greeting would be short and he could rush off with Odette after a few minutes. _Get in, get out, and stay the hell away,_ he repeated to himself. He knew it was childish, although anyone who knew the situation couldn't blame him.

"Oh yes, we're all just thrilled," Shira's high-pitched voice rang out against the music. She trilled in laughter in response to another woman nearby. Logan and Odette approached the group slowly; Odette was smiling and Logan was attempting a grin as well, though he was sure his face was more apprehensive than anything else. "Yes, we'll have to talk more later. Let me know about Sarah," Shira said before turning around. "Oh, hello you two!" Shira beamed. "Mitchum," she said tugging on her husband's jacket, "look who's here."

"Hello Shira, Mitchum," Odette greeted politely. "How are you?"

"Oh, Odette! How good it is to see you again," Shira greeted, giving Odette a warm hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek. "I've been well. How have you been? Did you enjoy Christmas with your parents?"

"I had a wonderful time. Nice to see you too, Mitchum," Odette greeted, as Mitchum placed a brief kiss on her cheek as well.

"Always a pleasure," Mitchum said, before standing back beside his wife.

Shira beamed at the two of them. "I hope Logan has been treating you well tonight. He has a tendency to lose focus."

Logan frowned; his mother's thinly veiled critique was not lost on him. "Oh, Logan is always a gentleman. You needn't worry."

"Well, at least there's one thing he's good at," Mitchum grumbled.

Odette's smile faltered. "He's good at many things. I'm terribly proud of him," she said in defense, rubbing his shoulder. Logan gave her a grateful smile in return.

"Shira, Odette, I hope you don't mind, but I need my son for a moment. There are some business associates I'd like to introduce him to."

"Of course we don't mind," Shira said, beaming at Odette. "You boys hurry along. Odette can stay with me. We can catch up, share some gossip."

"Come along, Logan," Mitchum said before turning and walking away. Logan caught Odette's eye before following his dad; she was giving him a familiar look. It was a look that said _be careful and mind your temper_ , something Logan struggled with often. He worried about Odette and his mom together, but he knew Odette could hold her own.

Mitchum approached a group of older gentlemen in the corner. "Evening gentlemen," he nodded. "I'd like to introduce you to my son, Logan," Mitchum said, gesturing to Logan.

"Nice to meet you all," said Logan, nodding his head in greeting.

"Logan, I'd like you to meet Paul Landham," indicated Mitchum to the first man. Logan reached out to shake Paul's hand. "I'm surprised you haven't met before. He works at," Mitchum continued, introducing Logan around to the different members, Logan shaking hands when needed. His thoughts were elsewhere, his mind returning to the past few days.

Paul, such a common name, one Logan often heard. Nevertheless, it had taken on a new meaning for him now. For the last six months, he had wondered, agonized even, over Rory's beau back in the States. The mysterious man who held her heart, the man she wouldn't break up with to have a relationship with him. How naive Logan was, to think that having Rory in his life would make her rethink, realize just how good the two of them were together? But no, she insisted on this Vegas arrangement, stating how good it was for the time being. That this... _sham_ of a relationship was perfect for their busy lives. Several days ago when the text appeared on her phone and Logan glanced casually at the screen, his heart stopped. Could this be him? Rory's quick action and Vegas dismissal told Logan everything. If it were a work colleague, she would have said so, especially if it was to remind Rory of their planned night out. No, the mysterious man's name had to be Paul.

Who was this Paul? Did he have an exciting job, one that let him travel too? Did he make more money? Logan scoffed to himself, of course he didn't make more than Logan. For one, it was unlikely, plus Logan knew that Rory was hardly impressed by money. No, this Paul had to be an intellectual, a man that could hold her interest over dinner. He probably presented her with flowers and planned picnics in the park. Logan was sure Paul came from a typical, middle-class American family with strong values and a close, perfect family. Lorelai would love him, eagerly welcoming him into her home. Luke would boast that he was a great guy as they would discuss the latest NFL scores, playfully debating the merits of the Jets and Giants. An ideal man for Rory's wide-open future in New York. Logan longed for a last name, hoping he could google the man to find out more, but he knew that would be crossing the line.

Logan scowled, his mood darkening as Mitchum continued to talk business. Logan caught his name occasionally, looking up to nod at the group, before retreating back into his thoughts.

Paul - stupid, perfect Paul. How perfect could this Paul be, though? Rory had spent Christmas and Thanksgiving with Logan here in London, not to mention her week-long stays in his apartment. Logan had to practically force her to return home last week. Clearly, Rory must prefer to spend her time with Logan. But then, maybe Rory was just using him for the free room and board?

No, that wasn't it. It wasn't in Rory's nature to be so callous. Logan shook the thought from his mind, returning to the matter at hand. Rory must have rarely talked to this Paul; she rarely texted anyone to begin with and most phone calls were to Lorelai, although Logan admitted there was plenty he didn't know while he was away at work. But there was a difference, right? Rory and Logan texted throughout the day, even when she was back in the States. They called each other every day, sometimes multiple calls just to mention a funny story they were eager to share. Their communication rivaled that of his time in London while she was still at Yale. Although he had sent a text to her after arriving at this gala tonight, Rory had yet to respond.

Logan's hand grasped the phone in his pocket. He was itching to take it out and open WhatsApp, curious to see if his text had been read. His last inspection said she hadn't. Was she okay? What was she doing? Why couldn't she respond to a simple _Happy New Year_ text? It was simply common courtesy to wish each other well. Rory must have been occupied, busy preparing for her evening. Yes, that had to be it, it just had to be.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. I need to step away for a moment. Logan, can you join me?" Logan glanced up in confusion, following his father as he stepped away from the group. Mitchum stopped when he reached a quiet side of the hall, turning around suddenly and glaring at Logan. "What the hell is your problem?" he muttered angrily, his voice quiet as to not attract onlookers.

Logan was taken aback by his father's sudden anger, although not entirely surprised. "What?"

"Have you lost all ability to communicate? This is a party, not a damn museum. You're a statue."

"Nope," he said looking down at his hands. "Not made of marble." He couldn't help but issue the sarcastic reply.

Mitchum glowered, moving his head in closer to whisper. "You can at least give a damn. These are important people. It's imperative you associate with them, forge new contacts, strengthen relations."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Logan replied heatedly. "Being a good little son."

"I just don't know what in the hell has gotten into you lately."

"Well, if we go back chronologically, there's scotch and salmon puffs and what do they call them here? Prawns?"

Mitchum gritted his teeth. "I've about had it with your smart mouth."

"I guess that's my cue to leave before you treat me like a child." Logan resisted the urge to stomp away, he was angry enough as it was.

"Logan-."

"Happy New Year, Dad," Logan ended with a wave, walking away quickly to find his fiancée once more. Logan found Odette not far from where he left her, surrounded by his mother's friends. He could tell that she was the subject of conversation, her forced smile alerting him to the uncomfortable situation.

"Hello, ladies," Logan greeted with a smile, laying a hand on the small of Odette's back. She visibly relaxed, her smile turning grateful.

"Evening, Logan. We were just telling Odette how excited we were for you. You two make a handsome couple," said the older woman standing next to his mother.

"Well, thank you. It means a lot. I do apologize, however. Would you mind if I steal my fiancée away? It's almost midnight, you know."

The group bade them farewell, and Logan grasped Odette's hand to lead her to the dance floor. He moved closer to the band, far enough away so that they could hear each other over the music, but neither close to the people standing off to the sides, listening in on any conversations. "The vipers looked ready to pounce. Looks like I've caught you just in time."

Odette sighed as she laid one hand on his shoulder, the other hand grasping his own. "I've seen worse. Please just keep me occupied," she requested as they began to dance. Logan nodded and let the music overtake them. They exchanged idle chatter first, covering superficial topics like her work and Honor's children. They soon grew tired of talk and simply swayed to the music, content to stay silent to pass the time. Odette yawned and rested her head on his shoulder. Logan knew she was tired; she had arrived early this morning on the train from Paris.

A woman nearby smiled at Logan, her eyes shifting to Odette before winking. The woman held her dance partner tighter, the man looking down and grinning at her. The action made him think inexplicably of Rory. Logan knew she was going to a party tonight, some small get-together in Brooklyn with some friends of a friend. He knew now that she was going with Paul to his friend's place. Well, he suspected it was Paul, but he doubted he was wrong. Rory was vague several days ago when they brought up their plans for the evening over dinner. Was that why she hadn't answered her text, she was preoccupied with Paul? Although it wasn't even seven yet in New York. But she would be going with Paul. Would she dance with him, kiss him at midnight, hold him close when the clock struck twelve? Maybe they would even share New Year's resolutions together, plan their future over the coming year. His heart ached, the despair he felt wrapping around the organ, squeezing tighter.

Logan was surrounded by couples, all dancing happily, eager to welcome midnight with a kiss. How he longed to be in their shoes, so optimistic, in love and _free_. All Logan felt was dread. His stomach dropped. He knew 2016 was one step closer to his pre-ordained life, a continuation of the lifestyle he has promised to preserve. What little hope he had was with Rory in New York, but even that was slipping through his fingers, despite Logan's attempt to hold on just for a little bit more. If he were braver, he'd say something to her, anything, but he knew it would take two to make a change. Then where would he be if she declined? He would have nothing and be worse off than before. Sometimes one just had to take what life gave them, and if this is all Logan had, he would just have to accept it.

It was almost midnight. The band stopped playing. The conductor hushed the crowd, readying everyone for the countdown. Odette lifted her head from his shoulder, yawning once before standing by his side. The crowd counted with the band leader, cheering as they announced the new year. People kissed and drank champagne, although their excitement did not reach Logan.

"Well," Logan said as _Auld Lang Syne_ began to play. "Another year over."

"So it seems." Odette reached up and brought a hand to his neck, bringing his head down gently to give him a deep New Year's kiss.

"People are staring," Logan said with a smirk, noting how his mother's friends watched them from the corner of their eyes. Odette shrugged her shoulders with a smile and turned to the stage, watching the band play. Logan's shoulders sagged; he knew he wasn't good company tonight. He felt terrible that Odette had to put up with him. _Screw it_ , he thought. _It's New Year's Eve. We can have our fun._ Logan grasped her hand, angling her body back towards his. He gripped her hips, leaning down to give her a prolonged kiss. She whimpered in reply, responding eagerly after a moment, the kiss growing hungrier.

"You want to get out of here?" he asked after he finally pulled away.

Odette lifted a brow. "It's a minute past."

"Please, we've made an appearance." Logan leaned down again, giving her a brief but hard kiss. "Please," he whispered once more, almost begging.

Odette bit her lip in thought. "Okay, sure."

Logan grabbed her hand and led her through the throng of party-goers, hurrying to the coat check. In their rush to leave, Logan had failed to notice his father standing off to the side, watching his son escape with a frown.

* * *

Brooklyn - New Year's Eve, 2015

 _Ah, but in case I stand one little chance_

 _Here comes the jackpot question in advance_

"Here you go, one rum and coke, compliments of my friend Mike."

"Thanks, Paul," said Rory with a small smile, taking the cup from his hands.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look this evening?" asked Paul, smiling as he looked her over. "Because really, you look great. I'm glad you could come. I know you've been really busy with your schedule and all."

"You have, but thank you again," Rory replied shyly, blushing as she did so. "I'm really glad I could come and meet your friends."

"Like I said, they've been dying to meet you. Come on, there are some people I want to introduce you to." Paul grabbed her free hand, gently leading her to the other side of the massive warehouse loft.

"Your friend's place is incredible. Honestly, this loft is amazing; it looks like it should be in a magazine. What does he do?" Rory asked, looking around the room in awe.

"Mike works at a gallery and is an artist in his free time. His studio is in a different, closed off part of the loft. He even plays in a band when he feels like it."

"Really?"

"He grew up on the Upper East Side," added Paul, answering Rory's unspoken question of _how in the hell could he afford all this_? "His dad is a big-time Wall Street financier. He went to college, grew a beard, got involved in political causes. Apparently, his father received quite a shock when he saw Mike on TV during the Occupy Wall Street protests. Anyway, he is pretty much the stereotypical Brooklyn hipster you see in the news, though with a pretty comfortable life. He's interesting, to say the least."

"I'll say." They reached his group of friends, Paul taking the time to introduce her to each member of the group. He proudly introduced her as his girlfriend Rory, noting that she was recently published in _The New Yorker_ and often traveled for her writing. Her new friends were especially interested to hear that she followed the Obama campaign, in awe that Rory was near such a historic president. Soon enough the conversation turned away from Rory's past, moving instead to Paul and his friends catching up over the last few weeks.

"That's amazing that you had the opportunity to travel with Obama. It must have been insane. I was still in college then, but I remember how crazy D.C. was during his inauguration," said the girl named Jenna standing next to Rory.

"It was a life-changing experience," replied Rory. "I was in DC during the inauguration, too. It was the tail-end of my assignment. Did you actually attend or –"

"Oh no, nothing like that," Jenna replied. "I went to Georgetown, so some of my classmates went. I had the flu that week, so I didn't think it was wise to stand out in the cold."

"No, probably not."

"But still, it must have been amazing to get an assignment like that right out of college."

"Yeah, it was pretty overwhelming at first. Do you work in journalism?" Rory asked, Jenna's wonderment leaving her curious.

"I work for Buzzfeed News," Jenna answered. Rory almost responded, but Jenna smiled and held up her hand. "I know, I know, not the most groundbreaking work, but I was really lucky. So many of my friends struggled to find jobs out of college. I was determined to make it in New York, so I got the best one I could find. It may not be the most highly regarded news source, but my articles get tons of hits. People think Millennials don't care about important issues, but Buzzfeed proves that when you connect your stories with social justice causes, allowing kids from all walks of life to have a say, they will listen. Then they could have fun on the site, too. I just feel so grateful to have a stable job. My dream may have changed, but I made it, you know? And maybe one day I'll get to be a staff writer at the _New Yorker_ or something. Even work on a campaign."

Rory was taken aback by the girl's wise outlook on life. Perhaps she was onto something. "That's a good way of looking at things, Jenna."

"Thanks," said Jenna with a big grin, before turning her attention back to the group. Rory left once to refill her drink, seamlessly blending back into the conversation. Paul's friends were fascinating; they came from all different backgrounds and different careers - a good representation of life in NYC.

"By the way, I love your earrings. I just had to mention it," Jenna said later, speaking softly as the group talked around them.

Rory reached up to her ears, lightly touching the silver hoops. "Thanks," she replied with a smile, turning her attention back toward the group. Rory had forgotten that these were the earrings she received all those years ago, a cherished gift from a simpler time. They were neither ostentatious or striking, a type of jewelry Rory preferred. When she was boxing up her items after she moved from Yale, she placed these earrings to the side, putting the flashy tennis bracelet in her "Logan box." The tennis bracelet would only remind her of Valentine's day and their vacations at the vineyard; the earrings, however, did not hold such memories, and therefore she decided she could still keep these to wear. Besides, if she put everything in a box that held a memory of Logan, she wouldn't have much left. No, she had to prioritize back then. What Rory had failed to realize, is that she had worn the earrings every New Year's Eve since, subconsciously reaching for the pair in her jewelry box.

Rory glanced around the warehouse loft, noting how almost every partygoer was partnered up with someone. Everyone seemed to be with someone they were dating. Some appeared to be in the beginnings of a relationship; their shy glances giving away their nervous behavior. Rory looked over at Paul, watching as he told a story to his friends, his arms gesturing to explain his story. He looked so happy to be here and even happier that she was joining him. Rory felt like a fraud, for even as nice as it was to feel wanted, she desperately longed to spend the night with someone else.

Logan had to attend a large event in London with some well-known people. She knew it was a classy event; he had brought his tux out earlier for dry cleaning. She bet he looked as handsome as ever in the outfit, probably even more striking with the beauty he would have draped over his arm. Oh yes, Odette would have to be in attendance, it was a society thing after all. Logan hadn't mentioned her name, but as he glossed over details of the evening, she knew he was holding back from telling her everything. Rory wondered how the night went for the two of them, though she hated herself for thinking about it. Did they dance all night? Did Logan proudly introduce her to his colleagues, accepting their congratulations while blushing as they said what a handsome couple they made? Morose, Rory willed herself to move on from thinking of his beautiful fiancée and their evening out together.

Instead, Rory's thoughts returned to the last few days. How astute Logan was, knowing that Rory needed to visit her mother. Rory felt refreshed when she returned to London, her mood happier and so grateful to Logan. When they arrived back at his home after he picked her up at the airport, she practically jumped him in the entryway, the two of them barely making it upstairs in time. Logan blew off work for the rest of the day, choosing to remain with Rory in bed. On the flight over, Rory was determined to tell Logan just how important her visit home was, how thankful she was to him, but she couldn't find the words once she saw his face. She could only hope to show him physically, wishing she could tell him telepathically. After her successful meeting with Naomi, she giddily told him over the phone the result. Logan, full of pride, asked Rory to meet him at his home for lunch. Needless to say, lunch was forgotten, their collective excitement for Rory's new adventure taking over their common sense.

As they went to dinner that night, however, something had changed. Something minor, something slight, but just enough for Logan's behavior to differ from that afternoon. He was no longer bantering with her, teasing her or asking her about work. Instead, he was quiet, introspective, only talking when asked. Rory felt she had to pull every answer out of him, even for such superficial topics like work. She finally asked him if something happened during the afternoon at work, but he claimed that everything was going great. It wasn't until the food had been served that he asked Rory about her New Year's Eve plans, turning silent as she said she was attending a party. She had asked him the same question, his short replies indicating he had to attend a social event.

The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, even on the journey home. Logan went to bed early, claiming he had a long day, leaving Rory to catch up on her reading on the couch. What had she done wrong? Was he having second thoughts again? Logan was back to his normal, carefree self the next morning, but something had changed. He was slightly more reserved than before. If only she could ask him to explain and receive an honest answer in return! Alas, she left once again without a word, the two of them sharing a sad but simple goodbye before the security gate.

"You're someplace else tonight," Paul said when everyone began to gather around the television, waiting for the ball drop to begin.

"I'm sorry." Rory gave him a small smile. "It's the jet lag. Guess I'm not fully over it."

"It's fine. You're having fun, though, right?" Paul asked, his eyes eager.

"Yeah, everyone is really nice. Your friends are great," she replied with a smile, happy to see Paul happy.

"I told you. They love you. You have won them over." He paused before looking around the room. "Tell you what. We won't stay much longer. We'll head home after this. I know you need the rest." Rory was ashamed of the way she had treated him lately. Paul was so sweet and kind. He always was putting others first. He deserved so much more than her.

Paul turned to talk to a person next to him, chatting while the final minutes of 2015 flashed on the screen. In many ways, Rory was glad to put this year behind her. It was the year of her career crash, the death of her grandfather, her acceptance of her stagnant life. And yet - it held a few good moments. Despite all this, Rory dreaded the upcoming year. She had a feeling it was all heading south, leading to a bigger crash than before. It was pessimistic, sure, but Rory was already worried about 2017 as well. The unknown used to excite her, now it terrified her.

Cheers erupted in the warehouse loft as the clock struck midnight and the crystal ball glowed. She clinked her glass with Paul's, listening as the party sang along with the music on the TV. "Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne?" the crowd bellowed drunkenly, hugging and kissing their friends and lovers. It was no different in Times Square, where the thousands of people did the same. Then Frank Sinatra's voice boomed from the speaker, the jubilant introduction doing little to improve Rory's sour mood.

" _I want to be a part of it…"_

Rory had heard this song for years, although now it took on a new meaning for her. The song was filled with such optimism that she almost hated to hear the lyrics. But the words were right. She came here to be a part of the city. New York was where everything happened. If Rory could make it in the news business here, she'd be going places. A little fish in the biggest pond in the world, eventually moving on up in the food chain. Although as usual, nothing ever ended up going to plan.

" _I'll make a brand new start of it, in ole New York."_

It had taken eight years, but Rory was determined this was going to be her start, her _real_ start to success. Everything was going to change with the book. She would finally get her life organized and put together, and then go after what she really wants. And maybe - just maybe - she'd tell Logan what she'd been wanting to say these past six months. Maybe then they'd still have a chance. She just needed a little more time. All she needed was this one chance.

" _If I can make it there, I'll make it anywhere._

 _It's up to you, New York, New York!"_

The song crescendoed to a magnificent end, the group now ignoring the TV to continue their drinking. Rory set her glass on the table, done with alcohol for the night. She felt slightly ill. Paul came back to her side after making the rounds, smiling at her cheerily. "Hey, I forgot something important," he said, grinning at her.

"What?"

Paul gently grasped her waist, leaning down to give her a kiss. "Happy New Year, Rory," he said as he drew back. "Listen, let me just say goodbye then we'll leave, okay?" Rory nodded and he left, walking off to a group in the next room. Rory went back to staring at the tv, noticing how the camera zeroed in on the couples in loving embraces, the younger kids dancing along to the music. They all looked so happy, so carefree. They were all with the people that mattered in their life. How she wished she felt the same.

For the first time in the last six years, Rory longed to be anywhere else but New York.

* * *

That night in two different cities, two people lay awake thinking not of the person next to them, but of their lovers, separated by ocean and circumstance. The three thousand miles felt like a million, and their hopes and dreams contingent on a reality they had yet to face. Perhaps something could change, but for now, they were left to remember their past, to consider the present, and to ponder just what this new year would bring.

 _What are you doing New Year's,_

 _New Year's Eve?_

* * *

 **AN:** _This chapter is an updated version of the one that was originally posted in March 2017._


	10. Guitar

**AN:** Another slightly rewritten chapter, though it isn't much. Thanks to those who have reviewed, it means a lot. Also, I must give a big shout out to RBraquel for her help.

As for the time jumps, there is a reason for them, and a reason why they will continue. So please note the dates.

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own this show nor do I own the film, the scene and the song referenced in this chapter.

 **Chapter 10: Guitar**

New Haven, Connecticut - Late January 2006

Logan frowned as he stared at the strings, his eyes tracing the small coils as he searched his memory. He was attempting to play an old Spanish song he learned as an exchange student in high school, part of the cultural enrichment classes he was required to attend. Initially picking up the guitar in middle school for its popularity attracting girls, Logan found that he had a knack for the instrument. As time went on, he discovered it to be more relaxing than anything, choosing instead to play after a long day rather than attempting to woo a girl he was interested in at the time. When he spent his semester in Spain, he eagerly chose the music class out of the long list of options, earnestly memorizing all the songs he could.

Logan sighed and sat up straighter. There was a part he just wasn't quite getting, though he knew it was there, deep in the recesses of his mind. The earlier phone call with his dad had put him on edge once again. Mitchum had decided that not only would Logan accompany him on more business trips, but he would often call to give Logan an update on the running of the company. Mitchum made thirty minute or longer phone calls at least every other day, ending with a subtle reminder of Logan's upcoming responsibility. Logan longed to simply enjoy the days of his final semester, not dread the passing of every new day because of his destiny.

After the phone call this afternoon, Logan returned home, grabbed his electric out of his stand, and began to play. Each riff echoed his frustrations, the nimble, quick movement of his fingers showing just how preoccupied his mind was. When Rory stopped by his apartment from the newsroom, he finally took a break to eat dinner with her, her presence calming him enough to begin his coursework. She sat on his couch while he sat at his desk, the apartment quiet except for the scratching of pens against the paper. When he was finished with his reading, he went to his closet, drug out the old guitar case and brought it into the living room. He preferred to keep his acoustic hidden behind closed doors, as he didn't trust his friends not to damage the instrument during a raucous party. It was now almost ten, and he had been playing for the last thirty minutes, but he just couldn't get this one part. Giving up on the lost notes, he looked over at the couch, watching Rory focus on the book in her hands.

When he found out that she had returned to Yale, he was proud of her for finding the courage within herself, despite his father's cruel words. Rory was right back where she belonged, her excitement at being back in the classroom not lost on Logan. She had been doubling up on her coursework, determined to graduate on time. He knew she would, too. Rory was going places, he just knew it. Her tenacity would ensure that she would go far, and he couldn't wait to watch her achieve her dreams.

Logan smiled to himself as he watched her twirl a hair around her finger, chewing her bottom lip as she wrote a note on the page. They had reconciled almost two weeks ago, and they were slowly building up trust again. After that night in the newsroom, they shared several nights discussing their feelings and just what went wrong before, choosing to make their relationship work again. Now she spent many evenings after school in his apartment, the two of them just content to spend time together. Last fall before their breakup, many nights had ended just like this, with Rory reading on the couch while Logan played his guitar. The only difference was now Rory was doing her coursework, just not reading for fun anymore. As much as Logan appreciated this change, he was glad that some things in their relationship had remained the same.

Pulling his attention away from Rory, he plucked at the strings again, choosing a different song to play. It was soft and gentle, not enough to bother Rory's concentration, but just a little to serenade her while she studied. He knew she enjoyed this type of music, calling it "brain food."

"Shouldn't you be playing something all young and angsty like 'Creep'?" Rory interrupted, glancing up from her book.

Logan frowned. "Why would I be angsty? I don't have anything to be angsty about. I've got you again, remember?" he ended with a wink.

Her lips twitched. "Shame. I was looking forward to _Radiohead_." She focused back on her book, Logan detecting a small smile hidden behind her hair.

"You don't like it when I play these old guitar pieces? Not the most contemporary, I know. But I like to mix things up, impress you with my repertoire and talent."

"If you want to impress me, play some _Rolling Stones_ ," she said with a straight face, nodding towards his electric in the stand.

Logan smirked as he waved his fingers. "Eh, I could, but these old classical songs really give me a workout." Rory's brows furrowed in thought, and Logan sat waiting for her catch on to his slightly inappropriate joke.

"Now you're just being dirty," she said after a moment, shooting him a look of annoyance. His grin widened. "Stop it. God, what an ego," she said, rolling her eyes at his immaturity.

"You love my ego!" he replied aghast.

"I do not!" Rory looked alarmed, though Logan could see the mocking indignation in her eyes.

"Admit it. You were first attracted to my ego."

Rory focused once more on her book. "I will admit no such thing," she replied flatly.

"I still say you loved that I debated you in that hallway when we first met," Logan said with a joking lilt to his voice. It was a common argument between them, the moment when they had first fallen for one another. "I had you hooked," he said leaning towards her, wishing for her to look up at him.

"No comment." Rory flipped another page of her book.

Logan sighed audibly. "I just will have to keep breaking you down 'til you admit it," he teased. He looked once more at the guitar in his lap, his fingers finding the strings and plucking away. One day he hoped to get a real classical guitar and learn the correct way to play, as the steel strings left behind much of the beauty of the song. Maybe he'd learn the banjo too. Now that would be amusing. He bet he could get Finn to take lessons with him. He could just imagine Mitchum's face as Logan brought out the banjo at dinner, Mitchum's face growing redder as Shira despaired that her house was turning into a scene from _Deliverance._

"Can't you just play something I know?" Rory interrupted once more, bringing Logan out of his daydreams, his fingers stalling on the strings.

"Why, is this distracting you?" he asked, worried that it was breaking her concentration.

"No, it's just too fancy. Play something simple, something I know." His concern must have shown for she added, "I do like to listen to music when I read. And you know I love to hear you play."

"Something simple and something you know, huh?"

"Please," she requested with a smile. He returned her smile and she flipped the pages of her book, bringing her legs onto the couch and folding them under her body. She settled into the cushions and leaned against the side pillow, looking at ease as her eyes darted across the page. He watched her, trying to think of a song to play for her. He looked over at the CD rack, briefly glancing at the names of artists stacked upon each other, but nothing immediately came to mind. What could he play? Rory certainly liked many different types of music. He grew distracted though, his mind turning away from melodies back to Rory. He'd felt happy and relaxed in these last two weeks, glad he was able to win her back. Had it really been almost a year since they first kissed? Even though it scared him then, he was glad Rory took the initiative at her grandparents' vow renewal. Logan, terrified as he was of commitment, took a chance with her. He was glad he did because he didn't know dating and loving someone could be this fulfilling. Though to be fair, he supposed, they just had to find each other first.

"I've got just the song," Logan stated finally, Rory glancing at him briefly in acknowledgment. He went over the song briefly in his mind, trying to remember the chords he played once before in a moment of weakness when he was alone and missing her. He strummed the guitar like it was played in the original version, hoping she would pick up on the familiar notes.

"What is this?" Rory asked as he finished the first verse, looking over at him in confusion.

"Just listen," he urged before he began to play the second verse.

"It doesn't sound familiar," she said when it was over, shaking her head before looking back down at her book.

"I can't believe you don't know what this is," he gasped. Logan shook his head, flabbergasted. "Frankly, I'm offended."

"Why would you be offended? It's not like it's your song," Rory asked incredulously, surprised at his reaction.

"But in a way, it is," he hinted, hoping she would catch his meaning.

"That makes no sense. Did you write it?"

"Nope," Logan answered, popping the _p_ before smiling at her.

"Then you'll have to explain."

"Listen, Ace." Logan played the last verse again, putting more emphasis on the minor chords. He watched her eagerly, looking for any sign of recognition.

Rory shrugged her shoulders. "Still nothing."

Logan sighed loudly, feigning annoyance. "We're going to have to do this the hard way, aren't we?" He unwound the guitar strap from his shoulder, placing the guitar back in its case. He stood and made his way over to the couch, stopping in front of Rory. "Get up," he requested with a smile, offering her his hand.

Rory glanced at his hand before looking up at him with a frown. "What are you doing?"

"Put down the book, Ace."

"I don't understand," she said confused.

Logan rolled his eyes, grinning at her. He took the book out of her hands, placing her pen inside to mark her page before setting it on the couch. "Just, come on. Play along, okay?" He grabbed both of her hands, gently pulling her to her feet. He backed several steps away from the couch, guiding her along. Once he reached the center of the living area, he took her one hand and placed it on his shoulder, letting it go to grasp her waist. He drew her close and began to sway, his hand on her waist bringing her with him.

"Logan, are we dancing? Why are we dancing?" Rory asked as she leaned her head back, trying to look in his eyes.

"Shhh," he replied with a whisper, pulling her close once more, his hand moving from her waist to her lower back. Logan began to hum the melody in her ear, still swaying with the beat.

"You're humming," she stated, still bewildered.

He ignored her, choosing instead to hum the second verse.

"Hey, this is 'Moon River'!" she exclaimed, realization dawning. She pulled back from his embrace again to try to meet his eye. "Why are you not singing the lyrics?" she asked, curious.

Logan paused his hums to answer. "I don't really know the lyrics. I just know the tune." He brought her closer once more and resumed his humming, trying to reach the end of the song.

"This is nice," she said after a moment, talking over his hum. She threaded her fingers with his, and he brought their entwined hands closer to his chest. "I can't believe you remember the song from our first dance," she mumbled into his shoulder, awe resonating in her voice. Although he was not able to see her face, he knew Rory was grinning, the happiness radiating from her.

"Despite what you may think, Ace, I remember a lot of things about us," he said after he finished the final verse. He paused before he added jokingly, "and it's not every day that I get to dance with the best man. Now _that's_ memorable."

"Oh, shut it," she replied cheekily. "This is so cheesy," she whispered, running her left hand gently on his shoulder. He gently squeezed her right hand in return.

"Hey, Valentine's day is around the corner. Got to step up my game, right?" Logan started to hum the song from the beginning, the two of them still dancing in front of the couch.

Rory sighed in contentment and laid her head upon his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. "Mom loves this movie," she murmured, before she hummed along with him. He kissed her head briefly before resting his head against hers, smelling the perfume in her hair. "Two drifters, off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see," Rory whispered into his hair, adding the lyrics to match his smiled, bringing her closer.

They continued to dance together long after he had finished humming, both content to let the moment last. A year ago, he was nervous, trying to keep his distance when surrounded by romantic couples, despite what his heart wanted. Now he couldn't get close enough to her; it felt unnatural to not touch her in some way. As he hugged her close to his body, Logan marveled at his good fortune. After a time, he finally lifted his head, the action causing Rory to look up at him. His hand on her lower back stroked the dip of her spine. "You don't really want to go back to reading now, do you?" he asked quietly, his eyebrows raised.

Rory's eyes sparkled as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck. "No," she replied with a smile. "I think I'm done for the evening."

* * *

New York - Mid-January 2016

How in the world could people do this to themselves on a daily basis?

Rory had been jogging for only twenty minutes, and she felt like she could die. Stupid new year resolutions. She was determined that this year would be a brand new start of it, to quote one famous New Yorker. The idea came to her as she binged _Grey's Anatomy_ the other night, back when Meredith and Cristina ran in the park to escape their troubles. "Endorphins!" Meredith cried. "They're mood elevators!" Rory put down the twentieth or so Twizzler of the evening, frowning at the screen. If jogging meant endorphins, that could help her sour mood. Her personal life was a mess, but if there was one thing Rory could do, it was control her body. Well, as long as there were no stupid boys in the way. Damn, she didn't need to think about her love life when she was struggling for breath.

 _Mood elevators, my ass_. The only thing she wanted to elevate was the pigeon in her way, kicking the foul bird into the sky.

But still, wasn't it nice to take a jog midday in Central Park? This is what New Yorkers did. It certainly is what Carolina did. Her friend, excited at the prospect of Rory joining her on her daily runs, dragged Rory out to buy fashionable running gear. Rory did have a good time; she loved shopping, plus she got this cute little iPhone armband so she could listen to her music. All of it certainly would come to good use.

Oh, who was she kidding? Rory was never going to do this again. She decided to go out today because it was Wednesday, she had finished her articles, and she couldn't stay cooped up any longer. Central Park was always beautiful in the winter. It wasn't snowing (yet) and the activity meant that she wasn't cold. So what if it was gray and dreary? She supposed it was better in the summer, yet then she would have to run in ninety-degree weather. Bleh.

Okay, five more minutes. Or maybe just to the top of that hill. Rory could do this. If she could bust her ass to get into three Ivies, she could certainly conquer a hill.

Left, right. Left, right.

Rory groaned as her calves burned. Maybe she couldn't do this. Cristina was right – Meredith was a sadist. And a slutty mistress.

 _Don't go there, Rory._

See, this was another problem with running. It left her alone with her stupid thoughts. Rory didn't want to think, she wanted to ignore everything. Exercise was the devil's work.

Left, right. Left, right.

Rory couldn't do this. She was going to collapse on the pavement. Maybe the other runners would be so kind as to trample her like the wildebeest did to Mufasa during the stampede.

Okay, one more minute and she was calling off this dumb, idiotic plan to better herself.

And then, a miracle. The ring came through her earbuds, stopping the upbeat music Rory had chosen earlier. She ran onto the grass, catching her breath as she rested her palms on her thighs. Rory caught the call just before it went to voicemail, eager for the distraction.

"This is Rory," she greeted breathlessly.

"Ms. Gilmore? Oh, I'm so glad I could finally get a hold of you!" answered the man.

"Hi, Mr. Morrison," she replied meekly. Why didn't she glance at the caller ID? Oh, that's right, she was trying to be a runner. Just more proof exercise was evil. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Ms. Gilmore. And yourself?"

"Oh, I'm great," she answered, finally noticing she'd stepped in dog poop on her run. "Just grand," she muttered, grimacing as she swiped her foot on the grass.

"Oh, I'm so glad. I've had so much trouble trying to reach you!"

"Er-"

"Did you get any of my voicemails?"

"Uh, yeah. I was just, you know traveling. All over, out of the country on business. Busy, busy, busy! Life of a journalist, you know how it is!" she said, her tone upbeat.

"Yes, your grandfather often spoke about how busy you were. I understand it can be very demanding." He paused. "And may I just begin in offering my sincerest condolences. Your grandfather was a great, kind man and an even better friend. We were all better off knowing him."

"Thank you, sir," she whispered, the death of her grandfather still fresh.

"Now you must know the reason I called." At this Rory frowned; she knew what was coming. "Well, I guess if you've read my letters you know about it already."

"Um, about that. I've moved. I have everything forwarded to my mother's house. So, um, I don't know." Rory walked to a nearby bench, preparing herself for the following conversation.

"Oh, okay," he began before pausing for a moment. "Well, you remember your grandfather entrusted me to help you with your trust. To make it last as long as I could while you occasionally dipped into it."

"Yes, I remember. And you've been really helpful to me! I've appreciated all of your advice," she said gratefully.

"See that's the thing, Ms. Gilmore. I don't know how much more I can do."

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

"I mean, that there's not much left," he answered slowly, breaking the news gently.

Rory frowned. "I don't understand, how could that have happened?"

"You've taken out quite a bit of money from your investments through the years, especially within this last year."

She rested her head in her palms, hunching over in the chair. "Wow," she whispered. "I didn't think it had gotten that bad."

"That's why I've been trying to reach you for so long Ms. Gilmore. I know this comes as a surprise. I want to help you. You're still freelancing, correct?"

"Um, yeah. That's my full-time job, well, kind of one. I write when I have the opportunity."

"Can you find another part-time job, perhaps something still in the writing world? I know we've talked about it before. It doesn't have to be something you desperately want, but something just to help you build up your savings again in the meantime. It will be more stable than this freelancing gig."

"Uh, actually, I've received some offers!"

"That's fantastic news, my dear."

"I've just been worried about a new job taking up too much of my time when I could use it for my more hardcore freelancing topics."

"It's all about budgeting in time and money, Ms. Gilmore. I'm sure if you work hard you can still write what you want to write. Your grandfather told me how well you juggled being an editor while at Yale. I have no doubt you could do this too."

"I know," she replied meekly, scuffing her shoe on the grass. "Hey, speaking of budgeting, I moved out of my apartment! So I'm not paying rent. Saving loads that way."

"Really? That explains why your mail is getting forwarded. I guess I should start sending all mail to your mother's then, to make sure you see it.

"Mmhmm." Mr. Morrison tried to be upbeat and curious, but she knew he was very serious. "Um, by the way, I'm writing a book now, you know? With a famous author. It's in the early stages, but I expect it to go far. And you know, that means advances, then later on, residuals."

"I'm happy for you, Ms. Gilmore, I am," he said sincerely.

"Thanks, I – "

"But I do want to stress," he interrupted, "that I worry. You've been using this money to keep yourself afloat for a long time, and soon that will no longer be possible. It will be out of my hands."

"I understand," she responded quietly.

"I wish only the best for you, Ms. Gilmore. Call me anytime if you have any questions or need any help, okay? Richard was a great friend of mine, and I'd be remiss if I didn't try to help his granddaughter when she needed it."

"Okay," she whispered. "Thanks, Mr. Morrison."

"Anytime. I look forward to hearing from you soon."

The call ended, and Rory stared out in front of her, absentmindedly watching the people pass in front of her bench. Mr. Morrison confirmed what she already knew: that her money was almost gone. She had avoided his voicemails and letters because opening one meant facing reality. She wasn't good with facing reality lately. Why did she even get herself into the mess in the first place? If only she had done things differently, she could be like her other friends, maybe not doing exactly what she wanted but still succeeding. She'd be stable.

Well, Rory wasn't giving up on the dream just yet. This book was going to work. If she couldn't get it done, then maybe she'd have to rethink her plans. But for now – this was the time to get serious.

* * *

New York City - Mid-February 2009

 _"I apologize, Ms. Gilmore. Your portfolio is impressive for your age, yes, but we're just not hiring any full-time writers now. However, if you ever want to submit articles independently for consideration, I would love to see what you can offer."_

Rory leaned back against the hard seat, the editor's words from earlier repeating in her mind. It had been her sixth in-person interview since arriving in New York, each one ending in a similar result as today's - with rejection.

" _We're just not hiring."_

" _Things are not going very well in this business, as I'm sure you know."_

" _To be frank, Ms. Gilmore, I only took this meeting as a courtesy to Hugo."_

So many different rejections, all saying the same thing: we just can't hire you. Rory had already been to one TV station, hoping she could get on as a writer there. She was quickly going through the list Hugo had given her, the amount of opportunities dwindling quickly, for some people wouldn't even make time to see her.

The subway car lurched forward and jostled Rory, the sudden movement causing her to hit her head against the window. She wiped her forehead with a grimace. The glass was greasy and the gunk was on her face. She'd have to take a shower once she got back to her hotel. Rory turned up the volume on her iPod as the car made a high-pitched whir, the wheels scratching against the rails as the car raced down the tunnel. The sound echoed her internal screams of frustration. Two years of following Obama on the campaign trail, only for Hugo to let her go after the inauguration.

" _I'm sorry, Rory. This is not how I wanted it to end, you have to know it. Times are tight, and cuts have to be made. I hope you know you'll always have a friend in me. Just call, and I'll be sure to give you a stellar recommendation. You're going places, you've got the talent. You'll get through this just fine, I know it."_

Hugo was apologetic, sure, but she knew as a rookie reporter that she'd be one of the first to be let go. He just had so many veterans and friends working for him, he had to make a decision in the end. Rory didn't blame him at all, she knew he was in a corner. He let her go with a list of contacts, telling her to go to New York like she'd always wanted. So Rory stayed in D.C. until the end of January, making a brief visit to Stars Hollow before heading to New York and pounding the pavement, determined to use his list to her advantage. Phone call after phone call, canceled interviews and denials later, and here Rory was with no game plan or direction. She was slowly running out of options, and she needed a job and money fast. How prudent of her to choose a career that was entering a downfall! Thoroughly dejected, Rory willed herself not to cry in the stinky subway car, her finger skipping to an upbeat song to improve her mood.

For years Rory dreamed of traveling all over, seeing the world, sharing her stories with others. Of course, she accomplished some of it, right? She saw the world? Well, if you counted Montana and the cornfields of Iowa as seeing the world. _And boy, I'm really seeing the world right now_ , she thought glumly to herself, catching a man across the aisle pick his nose and wipe his finger on the seat. Gagging slightly, she faced forward again, staring at the back of the chair in front of her. So what? She saw middle America. It was different than Connecticut. She learned about people's real struggles firsthand, not just from learning about inequality in a classroom. Rory watched a great statesman inspire people, encourage them, make them hope for a better future. It was easy to get lost in the optimism.

The car arrived at her stop, Rory standing quickly to exit out the door with the other passengers. As she walked amongst the crowd, she pondered the lessons she learned from the campaign trail. Stay optimistic, realize that you have the power to change your future. You only need to believe in yourself. So what if she hadn't really seen the world just yet? She'd followed Obama to his historic presidency. She'd had a job so many journalism graduates would kill to have. What a stepping stone, a big shining beacon on her resume! This journalism crisis would right itself in the end. In the meantime though, she might try this whole freelance thing. Hadn't these editors already encouraged her, as well as Hugo? She was young and lacking in responsibilities. She didn't have a family to worry about. She could afford to be a little untethered now. She'd make New York her home base. If she needed extra money, she'd dip into her trust fund for assistance. That's what it was there for, right? She could use it to supplement her income until something more stable came along.

As Rory reached the top of the subway exit stairs, she deeply breathed in the city air and sighed. Her cheap suit and jacket from H&M did little to block the cold, though Rory didn't care. She was right where she was meant to be. This freelancing thing was the right plan, she just knew it. She'd work hard for several years, getting her name out there. She'd have papers begging her to work for them. Then Rory would move up, be well-known. No more buses, she'd be traveling in style, flying first class! With a jump in her step, she walked down Fifth Avenue, confident once more. Time for a little shopping. She had to dress for the job she wanted, dress for success. And success would be there, waiting to greet her. Work hard, write well and she'd make it. The future was there, just waiting for her over the horizon.

* * *

New York - Mid-January 2016

Rory knocked, shifting her feet as she waited for Carolina to open the door. Earlier in the day, she received another rejection for an article, and her mood was in the toilet. Her friend had been trying to get Rory to go out with her and her new boyfriend for weeks now, although Rory kept trying to find excuses not to join. As much as she loved her friend, Rory had no desire to be the third wheel and think about her own messed up love life at the same time. Today when faced with another failure, Rory finally acquiesced, thinking that the dinner would lift her spirits and occupy her mind. Plus, apparently this guy was paying, and Rory could benefit from the free food right about now.

"Rory, I'm so glad you finally decided to come out with us," Carolina greeted as she led Rory inside. Only one eye sported liner, and her hair was up in a messy bun.

"It was no problem." Rory frowned. "Am I early? You're not ready yet."

"No, I told you to come here early," she replied as she led Rory back into her bedroom. She picked up her eyeliner and continued her task. "I wanted you to get here, help ease my nerves. I need you to help me pick out an outfit."

Rory sat on the edge of her friend's bed, watching her friend work from the reflection in the mirror. "You're the one that works in fashion, not me. Now if you need some hair help, I'm your girl. I'm great with pigtails," she teased. Carolina ignored her comment and proceeded to apply her lipstick. "Wow," Rory said in surprise, watching her friend. "You must really like him."

Carolina sighed as she capped her lipstick. "Maybe, yes. I don't know," she answered indecisively. She turned around to lean against the vanity counter. "He's different. I just want to make a good impression."

"Is it serious?" Rory asked, curious about the answer. Rory had known Carolina for years, and her friend never acted so nervous about a dinner.

"No, not really," she answered with a shrug of her shoulders. "We're having fun. But he's a laugh," she smiled, starry-eyed. "Totally unlike all the guys I dated in college. Worldly, too." She turned into her closet, rifling through the hangers. "I just need a second opinion. I need to make sure that I'm not building him up in my head."

"Hey, I get it. Don't need to explain any more to me."

"Will this look okay?" Carolina asked, holding the hangers out in front of her body.

"You look great." Her friend smiled and turned back to her closet, going through her shoe box. "So, what's the deal with this guy? How did you meet?" Rory questioned to her friend's back.

"We met at that party we went to back in November, remember? He's some sort of entrepreneur," she answered as she stood up holding a pair of boots. "He owned the club. He must do pretty well for himself too cause he has a hell of an apartment. He's got the funniest and weirdest things in there! It is a true bachelor pad."

"But is he stable?" Rory asked with a frown, unsure if she liked what she heard.

"I don't know," Carolina said as she released her hair and grabbed her brush. "I think he came from money. We haven't talked a lot about our backgrounds."

"You know you'll have to if you want this to go any further," Rory stated.

"Yes, but like I said, it's not serious, at least not yet." Carolina sighed and stopped brushing her hair, meeting Rory's eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "Rory, I can't explain it."

"Try me."

Carolina grinned and shook her head slightly. "He makes me laugh. I enjoy myself when I'm with him. It's so easy just to be... me. I feel like everything else can just fall into place. You understand, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," Rory replied softly, remembering her own past. "Listen, I'm going to get a drink while you get dressed." Rory left her friend, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass from the cabinet. As she held the glass under the tap, she spotted the recent _InStyle_ magazine on the counter. Flipping open the cover, she went to the table of contents, searching for the page number of her friend's recent article. Rory knew Carolina enjoyed working for the magazine, even if Rory found some the topics a tad banal. A graduate of Columbia, her friend certainly possessed the intelligence and talent to go to a major publication. Rory just feared her friend was wasting away her good years.

The buzzer rang and Carolina rushed to the speaker to answer it. Rory was still focused on the magazine so she paid little attention to the voice on the machine, thinking it sounded odd but otherwise nothing to worry over. Her friend paced back and forth in front of the door, tugging on her sleeves, and Rory shook her head at her anxiety. A knock on the door and the guy was there, Carolina greeting him with a laugh.

"Hello to you, too," the male answered in a foreign accent. Rory frowned at the familiar tone and looked toward the door. Rory froze in shock, flabbergasted at her friend's mysterious boyfriend.

"I'm glad you made it," Carolina said with a kiss to his cheek, pulling him into the room before closing the door.

"Of course I did. I wanted to meet this friend of yours."

"Finn?" Rory finally gasped when she found her voice.

"Rory?" Finn replied in astonishment. His eyebrows were almost hidden behind his mop of hair.

"You two already know each other?" asked Carolina in disbelief.

"Yes."

"Kind of," they answered at the same time.

Carolina looked between the two of them, frowning at their reactions. "Okay, do you two know each other or not?"

Rory shifted her feet while Finn stared at the floor. "We went to Yale together. Finn was in the class above me," Rory finally answered after a pause.

Finn looked quickly across the room at Rory, before looking down at Carolina. "Like Rory said. We ran in the same circles. Knew some common people. Nice to see you again, Rory," he greeted with a nod in her direction.

"Likewise, Finn. How's life been treating you?" Rory asked flatly, still stunned at the turn of events.

"Good, and you?"

"You know me. Always trying to be ready for anything life throws at me," she replied with a grin. Finn's eyes narrowed in question, his head tilted to the side.

"This is so great!" Carolina exclaimed, unaware of the tension between her two friends. "Here I was so worried. This will just make dinner that much easier," she said with a clap of her hands, grinning between the two of them.

Finn looked down at Carolina with a smile. "Come on, let's go," he said, touching her arm. "You'll have to explain to me how you two know each other, too."

"Of course! Let me grab my coat. I left it on my bed. Be right back." Carolina left the room, leaving the two of them behind. Rory bit her lip, wishing she declined the invitation to come out tonight.

"Well, that explains why you were at the party," Finn said, breaking the silence. Rory stared at him in confusion, wondering if he meant the party in November, but even then, how would he even know she was there? She opened up her mouth to ask, but her friend re-entered the room, rushing them out the door and to the restaurant.

Thirty minutes later, the three of them sat in a booth at a nearby sports bar, waiting for their meals. Rory was quiet, playing with her napkin, preferring to listen to her friends talk. Carolina spoke animatedly, regaling them about a petty argument between two of her colleagues.

"Sounds very _Devil Wears Prada_ ," Rory finally said, smiling at her friend over the table.

Carolina rolled her eyes. "Kind of, but my boss is nowhere near as cool as Meryl Streep," she joked, reaching for her glass.

"It could be worse," Finn said casually. "You could be working for Gordon Gecko," he announced, smiling when the girls chuckled. "So Rory," he said as he lifted his glass to take a sip. "What is it you do now?"

"I'm a writer," Rory replied, stopping herself from getting annoyed. _You know this_ , she thought to herself.

"Anywhere I know?" asked Finn, feigning interest.

"Freelancing. I'm anywhere and everywhere."

"It's true," interjected Carolina. "She's always traveling. I have to say, I'm a bit jealous."

Finn nodded in interest. "Interesting. Any places I know?"

Rory paused, unsure how to answer. "Oh, she goes all over the country. She flies to Europe a lot too." Carolina answered enthusiastically. Rory clenched her fist, trying not to kick her friend under the table. Finn didn't need to know that much about her.

"Sounds wicked. Must get to meet a lot of cool people, right Rory?" Finn asked.

"A fair bit," Rory muttered, reaching for her glass. Her friends chattered among themselves again, Rory thankful that she had nothing to add.

"Well, I'm going to head to the ladies before our food gets here," Carolina announced after a lull in the conversation. She slid out of her seat with a smile, before shooting Rory a large, excited grin as she passed by her side.

The silence at the table was deafening, especially when surrounded by the other loud patrons. Finn stared at Rory across the table, his expression flat. Rory bit her lip, searching for something to say to break the awkwardness. "Nice place," she commented, looking around the restaurant.

He nodded, shifting his body slightly on the bench.

"So you and Caro?"

He blinked, but his unnerving stare remained.

Giving up, Rory reached for her Coke and rolled her eyes in annoyance. If Finn was going to be so stubborn, she wasn't going to make an effort to try to engage him. She'd behave for Carolina's sake. Hopefully, this dinner would be finished soon, and she could be on her way.

"I know you've been seeing him again," he stated matter-of-factly, the suddenness causing Rory to choke on her drink. She coughed, shocked by his statement.

"I didn't take Logan as one to gossip," she said when the coughing abated, her eyebrows raised.

"He doesn't," Finn replied, his head slanted to the side. "That has never changed. You should remember that."

Even though she was slightly confused by his admission, she scoffed in reply. "I don't know what he's been telling you, but rest assured, everything's fine between us."

Finn sat up straighter, watching her with a curious expression. "That's the problem," crossing his arms. "He hasn't told me anything."

"Well then, it seems like he's decided that the situation doesn't concern you," she ended with a glare, hoping to end the conversation. The last thing she wanted to do today was discuss her non-relationship with Finn, who apparently _just knew_ somehow that she was still seeing Logan. She hadn't told anyone of their reunion in November, and she doubted he would too. Especially when she considered their new circumstances.

Finn leaned against the table, staring at the grains in the wood. "Look," Finn began after a pause, sighing before he continued. "Just… be careful with Logan."

Rory's eyes narrowed. "Your friend can make his own damned decisions about his life," she said, her voice steely. "He's proven that again and again."

He looked up at her then, his eyes sad. "I know," Finn replied solemnly, his eyes not leaving hers. "That's what I'm afraid of." He continued to stare at her for a long moment, Rory growing uncomfortable at the seriousness in his expression. He finally sat back with a smile, a grin plastered on his face as he looked behind her.

"I'm back lovelies!" greeted Carolina cheerily as she slid back into the booth next to Finn. "Miss me?" she asked with a smile, oblivious to the tension at the table. "We've talked all this time about life, but we haven't covered just what I've been dying to know," she began with a coy smile at the both of them.

Rory recognized her friend's look; this could go nowhere good. "Um, what do you mean?" Rory asked, trying to hide her nervousness.

"Finn, you'll have to tell me what Rory was like at Yale. I just have this vision of her from back then, and she's not that forthcoming about her past."

"Well, my dear," Finn answered, throwing an arm around Carolina's shoulders. "I'll be happy to oblige. But here's the thing, I didn't really know our dear Rory _that_ well," he said, looking apologetic, without sparing a glance at Rory across the table.

"Really? I would have thought since you said you hung out with the same people-"

"Yes, that is true," he interrupted. "We never talked often one on one, I mean. I just remember she was very focused on her career and was extremely involved in her studies. And she wasn't really one to party that often," he said matter-of-factly. Carolina's eyes widened in agreement.

"Funnily enough, Finn was exactly the opposite," Rory interjected a bit harshly, peeved by Finn's characterization of her. Why was he lying to her friend like this?

"This definitely sounds like the Rory I know," Carolina replied, smiling over the table at Rory. "I practically have to drag her out to try new things. She lives in New York and would rather spend her time reading in cafes! I mean, I love to read too, but I tell her all the time that we need to take advantage of living in the city. I think I've done quite well, too, wouldn't you say?" she asked Rory with a grin. Rory nodded in response. "The two of us have fun together. Well, when Rory is in town, that is."

Rory chuckled. "Yeah, being your friend is certainly eye-opening, for sure. You definitely keep me from wasting away at home."

"Have to live a little, Rory," Finn said, his expression blank as he stared at her over the table. "Life is too short. Sooner or later you'll be eighty pondering death, chastising yourself for not taking a chance."

"Exactly, Finn!" exclaimed Carolina, smiling at Finn. The waiter arrived with their food, ceasing all talk of Rory and Finn's Yale days.

The two of them continued to chatter, Rory observing them as she chewed on her fry. Just what in the world was Finn's prerogative here? Finn knew perfectly well what she was like in college; the gang had hung out plenty of times, just the four of them before Logan graduated. Heck, he helped her move out of her grandparents' house. What was obvious was that Finn was trying to prove a point to Rory, that he held the upper hand here. Rory and Finn were good friends once upon a time, and now he felt the need to issue her a warning? She knew he valued his friends dearly, but something was off about their conversation. What did he know about their relationship, and what did he know about Logan?

* * *

New York City - Mid-February 2009

Finn walked into the bar, brushing the snow off his shoulders and opening his coat in the heated room. It wasn't yet 4 p.m., but the bar would soon be filling up with workers catching a drink after a long day. He looked around quickly, frowning as he tried to find a flash of blond hair. This was where he said to meet him, right? Normally, Finn could find his friend easy, as he'd be welcoming him over with a wave. Not today, apparently.

Finn walked further into the bar, heading towards the back. He finally spotted his friend in the corner booth, his eyes downcast and staring at the beer in front of him. He was leaning over the table, one arm supporting his head while the other drew imaginary shapes on the tabletop.

Finn hurried over, eager to say hello. If Finn hadn't been so excited to see his friend, he would have noticed the gloom hanging over the table. Therefore he was shocked when his cheerful greeting was met with a grunt.

"Hi Logan, how have you been?" Finn asked, taking off his coat and throwing it onto the booth opposite his friend. He slid into the seat with a smile.

"Hey, Finn," Logan muttered, finally sitting up fully to greet his friend. His face was emotionless, though he sported dark circles underneath his eyes.

Finn's smile faded. "That well, huh? It's good to see you, mate," Finn added sincerely. "It's been a while. How's Palo Alto and sunny ole California?"

"It's lost its... luster." Logan took a sip from his beer, glancing off to the side as he put down the drink.

Logan said nothing more and Finn searched for something to say to fill the silence. "I was surprised to hear from you. Usually it's me calling you. You here visiting Honor, or on a business trip or-"

"No more business trips for me in the foreseeable future," Logan interrupted, turning his gaze back to his friend.

"What…?"

"I got myself fired - well, laid off. At least, that's what I'm telling people," Logan explained.

"I don't understand. Why would you say that?" Finn asked, puzzled as to what would cause Logan to lie.

"They didn't want me anymore." Although Logan tried to hide it, Finn could detect the hurt seeping into his voice.

"So, you were fired," Finn stated softly.

"The company taking over wasn't too thrilled about me hanging around." Logan paused before he added, "they were afraid I'd almost be an undercover agent for my father, despite my assurances that we no longer talked."

Finn's eyes widened in understanding. "Mate, well, that's shit," he said apologetically.

"Tell me about it," Logan replied, taking a swig from his beer.

"Damn. We need hard liquor." Finn looked over at his friend's half empty pint. "Well, I do. I'll bring you another beer." Finn got up from his seat, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder before departing for the bar. As Finn waited for the bartender, he observed his friend at the booth. Only now did Finn see the dark cloud hanging over him, the misery radiating off his body. How could he be so clueless to his friend's pain? Finn sighed as he walked back to the table with their drinks, unsure of what he could possibly say to help his friend now.

"Even three thousand miles away I can't escape my past," Logan muttered out, breaking the silence almost a minute after Finn returned.

"What will you do now? Will you find another job in Palo Alto?"

"I'm staying with Honor for the time being. After that," he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.

"Will you move back to New York?" Finn asked, trying to mask the hope in his voice. Perhaps if Logan moved back to the city, he'd be near his friends again. They could help each other out from time to time. It could be just what Logan needed.

"No," Logan responded forcefully, shaking his head. "No," he repeated in a softer tone. "I don't want to move to New York again. New York is just, I don't know. Been there, done that."

"Well, with the way technology is going, you can have your career in New Media still. You can work from anywhere," Finn added positively, trying to add some encouragement.

"I don't know if I want that, though," Logan replied in a whisper, looking down into his pint.

"I thought you enjoyed what you were doing?"

"I did enjoy it, at least at first. It was a great distraction."

"It wasn't just a distraction for you," Finn tried to reason. "We all knew how well you succeeded there. You really found your niche." He paused waiting for Logan to meet his eye. "Or at least we knew how much you worked, especially since Colin and I could barely talk to you because you were so busy."

"It _was_ a distraction, Finn," Logan argued, sitting up straighter. "It feels like I've been going through the motions these last two years. I got up, went to work, came home, went to bed. A constant cycle. I had no life outside my job. I threw myself into it, put my heart and soul into it. And for what? Nothing!" Logan exclaimed, pounding his fist on the table. His shoulders sagged and he took a breath, calming himself. "After two years of that, I need to do something else," he added a bit quieter. "I need to find a purpose."

"If you felt like that these last two years, I wish you would have said something. God, none of us had any idea."

"I had other things on my mind," Logan muttered, falling against the backrest, looking at the hands in his lap.

Finn watched his friend, slowly putting the pieces of the last two years together. "It's okay to admit to yourself that she broke your heart," he began gently. "Listen, I want to say I understand what that feels like, but I've never been in love like you have. That was a hell of a blow."

Logan's head shot up. "This has nothing to do with Rory," he replied in a steely voice.

"It doesn't?" he asked in slight disbelief.

"This is about my life, Finn. My curse."

"What curse?"

"My name. My background. Everything I am!"

"Logan-"

"Two years, Finn. Two years of trying to prove myself as Logan, only to be seen as a Huntzberger in the end." Logan sighed, shaking his head. "It seems like when things are just starting to go well, it's all ripped out from under me. I can't hold on to the good things. How _blessed_ I was to be born into this family," he grumbled.

Finn bit his lip, unsure of what to say. He was used to hearing Logan's frustrations back in college, and Finn had forgotten how much of a toll his family had on him. "Well, if you see your name as a curse... Don't let it dictate you anymore. Take shit from no one. Don't shy away from the name. Take control of it, use it to your advantage. What do you really want to do?" he asked, leaning across the table.

Logan was silent for a moment before a small smile graced his lips. "I've always wanted to see the world."

"Er, okay. I was thinking more like a career or…"

"I never got to take that trip to Asia," Logan continued with a frown, his fingers playing with the bar coaster.

"Asia? We went together. And we went to Fiji, er, disregard the slight mishap with the boat." Finn, struck with an idea, added, "hey, let's go to Thailand! I've meant to go back. We'll have a blast, you and me!"

Logan's eyes narrowed, his fingers stalling. "No, the one with Rory after graduation."

"I thought you said this has nothing to do with her?"

"This doesn't." Logan's voice was hard, though Finn still doubted him. "I need to do this, Finn. I need to go alone," he said after a moment, his voice melancholic once more.

"So," Finn began slowly. "You'll take this trip to Asia. Alone. Okay, then what will you do? Come back and find a new job, right?"

"No, after I go to Asia, I think I'll move onto somewhere else. Just need to... go where life takes me."

"And where will life take you?" Finn asked, still in disbelief.

"I don't know! Don't you see? This is what I need to do!" Logan implored.

"Need to do? I'm not sure I understand, mate."

"I need," Logan began, stopping to glance away for a moment before continuing, "need to be a random face among the crowd. An unknown." He hunched over the table, folding his arms on the table top. He stared at his hands as they tapped against the counter, his brows furrowed in thought. Finn waited patiently for his friend to continue, his face blank as Logan looked up giving him a serious look.

"I need to find out who I really am, a person without the name." Logan smiled slightly before he continued eagerly, "there's so much of the world I can go see, so many things that we don't even know. I want to see how people live, understand more about what's out there. Maybe I can even find some way to work." Logan sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I know I'm explaining this poorly, but I hope by venturing out into the unknown, I'll find myself and what I really want from life."

"And going off alone - this is how you'll find yourself?" Finn asked, skeptical.

"That's the reason I'm doing this, isn't it? I'll only know the answer when I've completed my journey."

"How long are you thinking about leaving?"

Logan's smile grew wider. "Who knows how long it will take? Maybe it will take years, and that's the point!" he exclaimed passionately.

Finn frowned. Logan's sudden enthusiasm for leaving worried him. "Don't do something this drastic without thinking this through. Think about who and what you'll leave behind," he argued, hoping that his friend would step back and think about the situation.

"Look, Finn," he murmured. "I've been thinking about this for a long time."

"Have you? Just disappearing? Walking away from your life?" Finn questioned, wondering how he could have never known Logan was planning to do something like this.

"What am I really walking away from? I have to do this, Finn," hitting his fist on the table in emphasis. "Life is more than cheese rolling in Gloucestershire, partying and gallivanting around Europe," he argued. "It's more than drunken cliff jumping in Costa Rica, or even an office in New York or Palo Alto. I can be something more, something different from just Logan Huntzberger, media heir and failed businessman. It's time for me to find out just what that is."

Logan reached for his glass, taking a drink before setting it on the table, frowning into the amber liquid. "I wish you could see it from my point of view. Why else do you think you're here?"

"Honestly? I was just looking forward to seeing you. I wasn't expecting this bombshell."

"Finn, I told you because," he began, his eyes narrowed in thought. He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "Well out of everyone, I figured that you would understand. You would be supportive. Or at least I hoped," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I need a friend on my side."

Finn bit his lip. "So, when will you leave?"

"I'm going to stay with Honor for a week. Then I'll go back to Palo Alto. Pack up my place, get travel documents together. I'm hoping by mid-April I can be on my way."

Finn studied his friend over the table. As unexpected as he felt the announcement was, he could understand Logan's need to remove himself from his world for a bit. Logan always came off very carefree, but those closest to him knew how the responsibility of his family weighed upon him. These past few years, however, Logan had grown up. He didn't feel the need to run off to escape as much. Maybe that's why Finn found the news so shocking. Out of their little group, Logan was the most pragmatic. Although Finn supposed, Logan's trip wasn't like the ones they took in college. It seemed more thought out that there was a reason. "If you feel it's something you need to do, I'll support you," he said finally.

"Thanks, Finn," Logan whispered. He looked relieved as if some of the weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Call me, and I'll help you pack," Finn said cheerily. "Give you some travel recommendations."

Logan chuckled and rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to barhop, Finn."

Finn shrugged his shoulders, his lips upturning in a small smile. "Eh, it was worth a try." He reached for his shot glass, holding it out in front of him. "To roads not yet traveled," he announced, crooking his head.

Logan met his eyes, and Finn could see they were a little brighter than before. Logan lifted his pint, clicking it against the shot glass. "Cheers."

"Hey," Logan said after he put down his glass. "In ominia, right?" He grinned slightly, one eyebrow raised.

Finn shook his head in silent laughter, glad to see parts of the old Logan shining through. "In omnia."

* * *

London – Late January 2016

"Oh my god, it is freezing! I wonder if I will ever be warm again?" Rory exclaimed as she rushed into the entryway, Logan not far behind.

"You're the one who keeps insisting we take the tube. Just think, we could have been in a nice warm cab this entire time!" he argued as he locked the door, turning around to face her with a smile, his teeth chattering slightly.

"Well, it's as I've said before," she reasoned diplomatically. "You simply cannot live in London and not take the tube. Plus the cost of a cab for that distance would have been ghastly." She shrugged off her coat and hung it up on the hook, before wrapping her hands in the sleeves of her sweater.

"Ghastly? Now who's been in London too long," Logan teased, hanging up his coat beside hers. "I've told you, I don't mind paying for the cost of a cab if it means you don't freeze to death."

"And I thought I told you," she argued back with brows raised, tapping his chest with her finger. "That this matter has been settled." Logan raised his arms in defeat, a playful grin gracing his features. "Now," she said, turning towards the kitchen. "I'm going to make us something warm to drink, while you will go upstairs and start the fire."

"Yes ma'am," he replied, mock saluting her.

Rory rolled her eyes. "Get upstairs, mister."

"I'm going," turning toward the staircase. "Oh by the way," he said, stopping at the first step. "I bought the microwaveable hot chocolate, just the kind you like."

"Ah, you're the best!" she exclaimed, turning toward his cabinets.

After both drinks were made in blessedly short time, she carefully walked up the stairs into the living room, finding Logan crouched in front of the fireplace. He was stoking the fire, giving her a marvelous view of his backside. How he could be so attractive doing the simplest of things, she would never know. Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she placed both mugs on the coffee table. He had managed to change into sweats and a long-sleeved tee; she reckoned she should do the same.

Logan, finished with the fire, was standing in front of the TV flipping through the channels when Rory walked back into the room. He ignored her as she walked behind him; he was too focused on finding a program to watch before they headed to bed. She stood off toward the side near the patio doors, watching him focus on the screen. Losing interest, she glanced down at the guitars in their stands by her feet.

"These are new," Rory said, breaking the silence. "You keep two out now."

"I do," Logan replied. Settling on a channel, he threw the control onto the couch, turning to her with a small smile.

Rory softly traced the wooden headstock of one instrument. "I only ever remember you keeping the one out on display," she murmured, the cool metal of the tuning pegs shocking her skin. "Why the change?" she asked, slightly curious.

Logan shrugged as he walked closer to her. "Sometimes Finn likes to jam with me, so I like to keep a second one readily available."

"Wait, for real? Finn plays?" she questioned in shock.

He grinned. "Yeah," he replied, chuckling.

"And you have jam sessions?" Logan's grin grew wider in response.

"Oh my god," she said in awe, looking back down at the instruments. "I never knew how much I needed to see this until now."

"Well," he said in a drawn-out reply, gently squeezing her hand before dropping it quickly, the action forcing her to look back at him. "Maybe one day it will happen," smirking before heading over to the couch and falling against the cushions.

"Does he visit you a lot? I know we saw them back in August, but," she trailed off, walking over to join him on the seat.

"When he has time" he responded as he threw an arm over her shoulder. "Colin and Robert have more traditional jobs, so it's more difficult for them to travel as much. Especially to get us all in one place. Finn just kind of, shows up. Though he typically gives a warning." He paused before adding, "of like a day."

She rolled her eyes as she settled into his side. "Sounds like Finn. What does he do?" she questioned, thinking back to their surprise meeting earlier this month. So far, Logan had made no indication that Finn had tipped him off about their earlier meeting.

"The question is, what does he not do."

"Logan," she admonished teasingly.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I know he's invested in several clubs and that he has residences all over the world. I think he has a very tenuous relationship with his family's company. Finn is an… enigma. But most of all," he said after a slight pause, "he's a mature Finn. He's more grown up than from our Yale days."

"Really?" she asked a bit disbelievingly, looking up at him.

"Yes, really," he said, turning his attention to the TV. "Finn has been there a lot for me. He's more perceptive than you think," he murmured seriously.

"Hidden behind his jovial exterior, right?"

"Right," he replied with a smile, before bringing her in closer to his side. He focused on the program, laughing at a particularly funny exchange between the two characters.

Rory was lost in her own thoughts. Finn's warning from earlier in the month took on new meaning. Finn apparently had been a great friend to Logan, perhaps more so than Colin or Robert. Just what had happened over the years for him to need Finn so much? She'd probably never know, but the prospect of Logan suffering bothered her. Even after all these years, Rory just wished for him to be happy.

* * *

Rory frowned as she looked over her bank accounts, the small text weighing upon her mind. Mr. Morrison's words from earlier in the month repeated over and over every time she looked at this web page lately. Live frugally? Crashing on people's couches after getting rid of her apartment counted. Find a job in the meantime to re-establish her savings? Well, she had a few options open, she just had to bite the bullet and interview, despite her hesitations. Take as many writing jobs as she could even if she didn't want to write them? Well, it would help if they would stop passing over her articles.

She sighed, thinking about the piece _The Atlantic_ had passed over earlier. It was just one of the few pieces that had been rejected this month. She didn't exactly lie to Mr. Morrison though – she was trying. Things were just not going as smoothly as she alluded to over the phone with him. Now if only Conde Nast would meet with her, maybe she could actually keep her word. She glanced at Naomi's name in the next tab on her web browser. Rory was going to have to kick ass with this book. With fewer options, Rory felt as if she was putting all of her faith in this new project. The prospect of failure was unacceptable.

Rory heard the front door close and the refrigerator opening soon after; Logan had returned from his evening run. He had left soon after arriving home from work and been gone for almost an hour. In that time Rory had meant to prepare for tomorrow, but her attention was quickly diverted to her pressing other problems. She quickly logged out of her banking page as she heard his steps on the stairwell, gathering her notes about Naomi and pretending to read through them.

"Hey," Logan greeted as he reached the top of the stairs. He took a long drag from his water bottle as he walked over to her. "All ready for you first big meeting with Naomi?" Logan asked, leaning over the back of the couch to kiss Rory's cheek.

"I think so," she said without looking up at him. "I've read enough about her, I'm totally consumed with all things Naomi." Rory shuffled through the papers at her side, hoping to find that one print-out she marked up earlier.

"I know. You even mention her in your sleep," he teased. His smirk faltered when his quip failed to elicit any reaction from her. "What's up, Ace?" he asked.

"I really want this to work out." She closed her laptop and leaned over to set it on the coffee table. Sighing, she leaned back against the couch, moving the papers to her lap. "I need this to work out for me. It just has to," she muttered while staring at the top sheet.

Logan frowned, concerned over the doubt in her voice. "What makes you think it won't?"

She scoffed. "Precedent."

"Rory-."

She finally turned around to face him. "I've failed so much," she said despondently. "What if I can't do this too?"

Unable to look up at him any longer, Rory stood, walking away from the couch to the fireplace. She stared into the flames, watching as the tendrils licked over the wood. Logan remained on other side of the couch, clutching his bottle. She could feel his concerned eyes on her.

"I had all these goals that I wanted to accomplish," she said, wishing the warmth of the fire could bring her any comfort. "It's like they're all there, just out of my reach, but close enough to tempt me."

"You've accomplished so much already."

"But not all of it," she replied, shaking her head. "I wanted to see the world, be the next Amanpour, you know."

"You'll see the world. You have time. You have _so_ much time," he responded earnestly.

"You've already seen it, you're so successful in your business. Look what you wrote!"

"That wasn't planned, though. That was an opportunity that I had to take advantage of in the moment. I had a lot of help." He slowly made his way toward her. "Whereas you, you are working so hard to complete your goal. It will come, it just needs time." He stopped in front of her, looking down at her with encouraging eyes.

"Time, I don't have time!" she exclaimed. "I ran out of time years ago."

"So? It's taken you longer than expected. Nothing ever turns out to plan, you know. But you're on the right path," he said, grabbing her hand. "This is what's important Rory," he implored.

"Am I, though?" she asked, pulling her hand from his. "I don't know, I feel like I'm drifting," she said, her arm gesturing as she stepped away from him again. "I'm floating along, except I don't have any oars to guide me. I just keep crashing into the rocks. One by one, I collect another hole until sooner or later, I'm sinking, and I have no lifejacket. I'm crying out for help, and no one hears me." She sniffled and hugged her arms closer to her body, staring at the floor.

"I hear you, Rory," he replied softly.

"God, Logan. I just wish I could make you understand how… defeated I feel, all the time," she whimpered, holding back tears.

Logan remained silent for a long moment, watching her with a curious expression. Rory felt slightly ashamed at her behavior. He then stared away from her, looking out into the room, biting his lip. She opened her mouth to apologize, with what, she didn't know when he started to speak. "I may seem put together now Rory, but like you, I was drifting… listless, almost. I was drifting for a long time." He looked back at her with a serious expression. "I reached a real low point. I had absolutely no idea what I wanted out of life or where I was going. I didn't even know how to start… living, I guess." He paused to glance at his feet. "I had never felt as alone as I did back then. It took years to be comfortable in my skin again," he murmured. He met her eyes again and added, "so yes, I can empathize, somewhat."

Rory longed to ask him what he meant, but she couldn't find the words. She searched his eyes, looking for any doubt in his admission. She knew she would find none, he was honest to a fault.

The compassion in his eyes was too much for her and she finally had to look away. "I just don't want it all to remain a dream," she whispered, looking down once more. The tears finally escaped her eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. She wanted them to stain her cheeks; they were the proof of everything she longed for but couldn't achieve.

"Rory," he whispered back, placing a finger under her chin to gently lift her head. He smiled when she met his eyes. "I have complete faith. Those dreams will become a reality." He wiped at the tears on her skin, his hand moving to her neck.

She returned his smile, his encouragement washing over her. Logan always seemed to believe in her, she just wished she shared that faith. He placed his hands on her arms, moving them up and down in a comforting gesture. She leaned slightly into him, resting her head against his, hoping he would envelop her in an embrace.

"Do you want some tea?" Logan asked quietly into her hair.

Rory stood up straighter to look him fully in the eye. "Tea?" she asked, surprised by his odd question.

"Yeah, I guess these Brits are rubbing off on me." He chuckled. "It's what you're supposed to do in these types of situations. I could have asked to put the kettle on, just to give you the full effect," he stated. "Hell, I'd even add a Mrs. Doubtfire voice, if it would make you smile."

Rory rolled her eyes at his attempt to lighten the moment. "Tea sounds good," she replied with a small laugh.

"Okay," he grinned. "I'll be right back." After a brief kiss to her forehead, he left her with a final gentle squeeze to her arms.

Later that evening, Rory sat back from his desktop, rolling her shoulders. Her body was stiff from sitting at the desk for so long, but she finally felt prepared for tomorrow. The only thing left to do was show up, and hopefully, the meeting would just flow. She grabbed her cup of now cold tea, taking a sip before rolling back the chair to stand. Walking over to the patio doors, she looked out onto the residential street, contemplating the lives of the people around her.

Logan's home was located in a well-off neighborhood, the residents were certainly successful in their careers. Even the cars showed their wealth, their paint shiny from the gleam of the streetlights. It made sense for Logan to live in a place like this, among the successful and settled people of London. Funny, this would have been the type of area she would have liked for herself, instead of the bug infested Brooklyn walk-up she finally had to leave. She was so far away from the vision of herself she had imagined back at Yale, would there ever be a time when she would make it? Logan seemed to think so.

Oh, Logan. He always had this innate faith in her, despite knowing all her troubles and failures. Whether it was simply passing a difficult exam or getting the paper out on time, he knew the way to encourage her. Although did he understand what she was trying to tell him tonight? He said he empathized, but she wondered if he truly recognized her struggles. He always had a way of looking at life with rose-colored glasses. In some ways, she always loved that about him, but on nights like tonight, she felt that he needed a reality check, that life wasn't always fixable.

Rory closed her eyes, letting the soft music wash over her. Logan was on the couch, playing his guitar again. His fingers gently moved glibly over the strings in the way she remembered from all those years ago. Logan, who was always full of spunk and attacked life head-first, had a tenderness with the instrument that at first surprised her, but the more she knew him, made sense. The song he played now was sad, full of longing, but held a trace of hope. It amazed her, how he seemed to echo the feelings within her. But she frowned at the back of his head as he faced away from her. Logan played when something was troubling him. What could it be tonight? Was it something she said? Did he have a stressful day at work and he needed to decompress? Perhaps it had something to do with his own period of drifting. How she longed to ask what had happened to make him so listless, but she felt that it was a story he didn't care to tell.

Rory turned back to look out the glass doors with a sigh. She watched as a couple navigated the sidewalks together, avoiding the puddles from an earlier rain. In the evening mist, they seemed ghostly, dreamlike, vanishing into the night when they stepped out of the soft yellow glow of the street lights. She turned her focus to stare out over the city rooftops, wishing she could see the stars here in London. For just a moment a sliver of the silvery moon peaked from a gap in the clouds, before disappearing into the darkness once more.

 **AN:** Hope you enjoyed the "Wedding Bell Blues," "Moon River," and _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ references. I read an interview from Nick Holmes (the guy who plays Robert) who said Matt and Tanc sat around during the YJIJJ filming and played guitar _(! internally screaming I need visual evidence_ ). Anyway, Logan had guitars in both of his homes and I don't know, it was a small thing that was never really mentioned.

One last rewritten chapter to go, then it's onto 12. If you're a new reader, welcome. If you haven't yet, I would love if you could review. I would appreciate it as I'm writing the future chapters now and take every comment into account.


	11. Hearts

**AN:** Slightly rewritten but not by much, yet again. Thank you for your reviews, follows and favorites. I also want to thank RBraquel for her dilligent work reviewing this chapter and helping me out with some key moments. She had some brilliant ideas and it made this chapter better.

 _ **Warning!**_ _-_ This chapter does mention lost pregnancy. If you have any questions about the content before reading, please feel free to message me either here or on my tumblr. I will mark the beginning and end of the section with a " *!* "

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own the show, only this collection of phrases below.

 **Chapter 11: Hearts**

 **New York City – February 25, 2007**

The bedside table lamp cast a dull, yellow light upon the room, the soft glow of the bulb illuminating the figure as they sat up in bed. It was late – too late – the street below had quieted, even if it was in the city that never sleeps. The man was one of those proving the saying right. Although instead of partying like many of those early on a Sunday morning (to them, it was still a Saturday), he was awake because sleep wouldn't come.

Logan ran his eyes over the page, not ingesting any word he read. After arriving home with Rory, he dozed for maybe an hour or two, but sleep was uneasy. He dreamed of his father, the man shouting at him, repeating failure after failure. He awoke with a jolt, thankful he hadn't woken her too while he tossed and turned. He first stared at the ceiling, watching the streetlights glow and flicker on the paint above. After a half hour had passed and sleep still hadn't come, he gave up, turning on the lamp and grabbing the book off the nightstand. He tried to focus on the words, but they didn't help clear his mind of his worries.

His thoughts kept returning to the phone call that evening when his colleague delivered the news. His breath had left him and his stomach dropped as the words came through the receiver. He had failed, miserably so. He had worked so hard for months, invested blood, sweat, and unfortunately some tears trying to make the deal work. He had even spent his own money, so confident in its success. He was finally going to prove to everyone that he was more than his name, that he could exceed all expectations.

How could he have been so wrong?

As he closed the phone, his body yearned to return to his old standbys. He wanted to drink to forget, to party until he couldn't remember his name, to make questionable decisions without thinking of the consequences. But then Rory put his Russian, furry crown on his head, giving him her brightest smile. She looked so eager, so proud to provide him with twenty-five years of birthdays in one night – he couldn't tell her then. He couldn't run out on her, not when she was now the only successful, wonderful thing he had in his life. He couldn't control everything, but he could manage how he handled his relationship tonight.

Logan reached his decision. He needed the distraction that only she could provide. They went out on the town, and he followed her with a grin as she guided him with glee to his next birthday milestone. He made sure to tell her just how thankful he was throughout their journey, but as she assured him that he deserved it with a squeeze of his hand, he couldn't help but think of what he was trying to ignore. Her presence calmed him, but he knew it was only temporary. For tomorrow, she would drive back to Yale, and he would be here alone - left to deal with the fallout.

Logan was already dreading tomorrow. What would happen when he showed up in the office, once the news had spread? He'd have to face the disapproval, the clucking tongues of his coworkers as he passed in the hallways. "Just a trust fund brat," they'd say, "ruining the company with no repercussions."

And then there was his father. He'd probably lose all progress he'd made with the man, the man who had just tonight boasted about his growth. His father would be on the rampage, yelling at him in front of all to see. He'd lose all respect. But what of Rory? Would he lose her respect, too, after just today she defended him at his pompous birthday dinner?

His breathing quickened as he began to panic. What was he going to do? Would Rory still want to be with him if he was just…

A movement on the bed startled him. He didn't look back, in case Rory was just moving in her sleep. He heard Rory pat the bed, knowing that she felt the space beside her empty. He watched her legs as they stretched below the covers, feeling the bed move as she sat up to join him.

"You're up," Rory murmured sleepily, her words forming a yawn at the end. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders from the back, her warm skin meeting his. She briefly kissed his neck, softly kneading his shoulders. "You're tense. It's your birthday," she said, as if the birthday occasion solved every problem, moving worries into nothingness. "Well, not really. But it's still your birthday weekend."

She leaned her head on top of his shoulder, looking over at the book in his lap. "You're reading the book I gave you for Valentine's Day."

"Yeah, I couldn't sleep."

Rory's left arm reached around, flipping the book over to the inside front cover. He watched as her finger traced the inscription she had left there, pausing over her final declaration at the end of her note. "I mean it, Logan. With grandpa, the substitute, and our issue last week, you've been amazing. I wish I could find the words."

He turned his head, meeting her eyes and grinned. "Well, my birthday has been pretty spectacular." He closed the book and put it off to the side, turning his body to face her better.

Rory's eyes grew wide as she bit her lip. "Really? I know we still have so much to do and maybe we'll have to push some things back to another weekend but -"

He broke off her ramble with a kiss, his one arm reaching behind to curl around her waist gently. She moved one hand up, lightly cupping his face before he drew away, his lips hovering over hers. "I don't deserve you," he mumbled against the corner of her mouth. He tried to kiss her again, but her hand on his cheek stopped him.

Rory frowned. "Don't say that, never say that," she chided, the hand on his check forcing him to meet her eyes.

As she fixed him with her harsh stare, he felt momentary shame; he often thought she was too good to be true, and as he held her, his emotion involuntary slipped out. "I'm sorry. Thank you," he added, grateful for her reminder that he should quash his fears. After all this time, she still chose to be with him, despite his mistakes. He took a deep breath, searching her eyes again. "Rory? I," he trailed off, longing to tell her the cause of his restless sleep.

"Yes?"

He couldn't do it then, not when she was looking at him like that. He kissed her again quickly, drawing back to look into her eyes once more. "Nothing. I just really," he began before shaking his head. "I love you, you know."

She gave him a brilliant smile, her eyes twinkling in the dull light. "I love you, too," she reciprocated, gently brushing his hair back with her palm.

Logan turned his head slightly into her palm, kissing it gently. Moving his body around to face her better, his other arm slid around her waist to gather her in an embrace. He kissed her more fully, her lips pliant under his as she granted him entrance. He felt her respond as she grew more alert. They broke for air, Rory gasping and his lips moved down her neck, pausing over her collarbone as he slowed his breathing.

"You have the biggest heart I know," he murmured against her skin, kissing her collarbone quickly between words. "Thank you for letting me in."

He felt her giggle lightly. "You were pretty hard to resist," she teased before reaching for him, bringing him up to meet her lips once more.

He pushed her slowly back down to the bed, their tongues battling for dominance. He turned his body entirely to cover her own as it grew more heated, her arms opening to welcome his embrace. Rory groaned as he moved down her chest, her sounds turning into whimpers as his mouth and hands mapped her body. Logan wanted to make her feel cherished, to somehow make her understand how her presence calmed him. On a night like tonight, she knew what to say to make him stay, when all he wanted was to escape. She was his drug and the cure.

Their lovemaking was passionate but gentle, the two relying more on instinct, knowing just how to bring each other to the heights of pleasure despite the lateness of the hour. Logan marveled how easy it was to know her; his desire for her went beyond rational thought. Would that hunger ever go away? He wanted to lose himself in her again, to drown in her being. He didn't want to think what tomorrow would bring for him. As long as he was in her embrace, his world would be alright.

He collapsed on her, exhausted but fulfilled. He breathed in the scent at the crook of her neck, memorizing it, storing it away for when they were apart once more. He felt her hands caress his back, slowly moving up to his head. She tugged on his hair, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Hey, are you awake?"

He looked up and met her eyes. "Sorry," he grunted and rolled to the side.

"It's okay." He watched as she slithered out of bed, grabbing his shirt off the floor and heading down the hallway.

Logan sat up, throwing his head in his hands. Deciding to return to sleep, he stretched over to turn off the nightside lamp but stopped as he saw something out of the corner of his eye. In their passion, the book she gave him had fallen off the bed, laying upside down on the floor. He reached down and set it gently back on the bedside table, glancing briefly at the title. When Rory gave him the book of old love letters, he was puzzled. Sure, the people were famous, but the couple's relationship was their own; it didn't explain his and Rory's relationship. But as he remembered her cheeky inscription and the lovenotes she starred, he understood her meaning. He smiled as he laid back down on the pillow. If her genuine feelings were echoing what was in the book, things would be ok. They'd make it, despite this significant hiccup to his future plans.

He heard her feet pad against the wood, her body soon joining him on the bed. Sliding under the covers, she cuddled up next to him, throwing her arm and leg around him. She rested her head against his chest, her blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight as she whispered, "hey, you should get some sleep. You need a few more hours."

Rory smiled as the hand that was on his chest reached up to his face briefly, brushing first over his eyes before grazing his lips, then returning to settle over his heart once again. Logan's arm lightly brushed her back, while his other free hand grabbed her own lying on his chest. Weaving their fingers together, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, wondering if she could feel his heart beating erratically mere inches below their connection. The warmth of her touch calmed him, her hand soothing his heart back to its steady, regular pace. Her comforting presence began to lull him to sleep and wondered what he did to deserve this moment.

"Rory?" he whispered, staring at the ceiling.

"Yeah?"

"This really was the best birthday."

He felt her lips curl into a smile against his chest, her body instinctively nestling closer. "Good," she murmured sleepily, her words and lips like a kiss on his hot skin. The rise and fall of her body slowed as she entered slumber, her breaths evening out.

Right now, Logan was not going to worry about the next day or week. He'd face it when the time came. He was going to live in the moment, to relish the presence of the woman he loved, his anchor and peace in the chaos.

* * *

 **London – Early February 2016**

"I never thought it would be such a challenge to get anything down," Rory said despondently into her fries. "I'm not sure how to even proceed. This woman is the queen of wild tangents."

"If anyone can do it, you can," Logan replied, stabbing some greens on his fork. "You did grow up with your mother, after all."

Rory shrugged with a smile. "True. But my mom I can understand. I am a part of her. Naomi, not so much."

It was late evening on a weekday, and Logan and Rory sat in a booth in the corner of the local pub. Logan phoned as he headed home from the office, asking Rory to meet him at a favorite haunt of his near his home. It was incredibly domestic, Rory thought as she observed the other patrons. Here they were discussing their days; to an outsider, nothing would stand out from their strange relationship.

"Like today, she listed all the reasons 'Dave' bothered her," Rory continued. "He's a terrible grump," Rory said, mimicking Naomi's accent. "I hate his voice, I always have. It's gotten worse since we were at uni. I don't know how dear, sweet Sam can put up with him. He should just let Boris take over. We'd get nothing done, but at least we'll have comedy back in politics. I'd imagine it would be just like Yes, Minister again." She shook her head and added in her normal voice, "it's like she's speaking in code, and I have to figure out her lesson for a segment in the book."

"Dave as in David Cameron, the PM," asked Logan, his eyes wide.

"Yes. You wouldn't believe how long it took me to figure out who she was talking about at first. She didn't use names."

He chuckled incredulously. "Amazing."

"Then, she somehow morphed that topic into plastic surgery, and that even though she is a feminist and believes women shouldn't change their looks to fit society's standard, would it be truly horrible if she did get a little tweaking done? Will she destroy her principles? Which then I thought, great! A nice chapter in there about modern feminism in the western world and what It means to them. But she said just forget it, this conversation never happened." Rory sighed and paused to take a bite. "Anyway, all this is totally useless for a book. It's a blessing she's going on vacation again. I don't know what I can do anymore. I need time to regroup, think of some questions. And try to develop a way to keep her focused," she ended thoughtfully, her eyes studying the table in a frown.

"There have to be some useful tidbits."

Rory looked up and met his eyes. "There is, among all the gossip I'm not allowed to mention. I just don't know how I'll weave what I do know about her into a book."

"Surely you can start with some kind of prologue."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, do it similar to your article. A funny story about one of your meetings. You have some, right?"

Rory thought back to their one meeting, where the woman stole food headed for other tables. At the time, she found the woman a little eccentric, but that was before she knew the true oddities of Naomi. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Well then, you know what to do. Segue that into a meaning somehow, some little anecdote. Introduce Naomi to the reader. Then begin your work backward with chapter one."

Rory studied him across the table. "You were always an excellent writer. You should do more of it."

"I'm good at short articles, getting a message across. I prefer the business part of it, behind the scenes," he said, brushing off her praise. He looked up from his plate to give her a wide grin. "You, however, are brilliant. You paint a story with your words."

"I'm not that wonderful," she muttered.

"You are, though. That's why I think you'll do well writing this book."

"You really think so?" she asked, hating the way her voice sounded small. Logan was always an optimist when it came to her career, always reminding her of her potential. She had her mom and her family, but it was still different coming from an outsider. She missed that over the years.

"It's like I said back at the beginning. You really get into things, you take your time. So what if it's not what you wanted to do in the beginning? It might not be what you expect, but it will be a good launching pad for further things in your career."

Rory felt her confidence grow under his words. "It will, you're right."

"Plus, when you get this out, there will be more opportunities to travel," he added. "Tell the stories you want to tell. And that's what you want, right?"

Rory nodded, grinning brightly before returning to her meal. She took several bites, deciding to share the news she had held close these last few weeks. "Speaking of further things," she began, pushing food around on her plate.

"Yes?"

"I've had some people reach out to me. Publications about a job."

"Really? Why didn't you say anything? This is big!" Logan exclaimed with pride.

Rory blushed, biting her lip while she shrugged. "It isn't the Times or anything, but they're interested."

"That's incredible. See, what did I tell you? It's happening," he said, grinning widely.

Rory couldn't help but grin in return. "It's happening."

The two finished their meal and ambled slowly back to his home, laughing along the way. They settled quickly into old patterns, Rory making herself a coffee and Logan some tea, before heading upstairs to watch some television before bed. As the program played, Logan casually mentioned he had picked up some ice cream and Rory grinned, leaping off the couch. She quickly returned with the carton and two spoons, joining him under the throw as they sat together, sharing the treat as the program ended.

"I love that you have a fireplace," Rory said in-between mouthfuls, watching the flames below the TV.

"Yeah, keeps us warm while we eat ice cream in February," replied Logan sardonically.

"My next place, I'm going to get a fireplace. And a full kitchen," she added, wishful but determined.

Logan chuckled. "To cook?"

"Nah, counter space for all my coffeemakers."

"You will, I believe it."

Rory sighed, thinking of the recent place she called home. "It just has to be better than my last place."

"I liked your last place. It was nice. It was eclectic… like you," he ended, shooting her a grin.

"It was, wasn't it?"

"The neighborhood, the furniture," he continued, "it reminded me of that town you grew up in."

Logan put down his spoon, throwing his arm around her. "Do you miss it, your old apartment? Now that you're kind of a wanderer?"

"Well, it was going condo, and they were going to perform major improvements. Rent was expensive for a place that I was only in half the time, and it would go up," she answered diplomatically. "Plus, now Mom brags that I'm Jack Keroac-ing it," she smirked.

"But it put you in New York," he reasoned.

"True, it was the place I first got when I moved there. And it was a great part of my life. But I had to move on. Like when I lived with Paris and Doyle, remember?"

"Yeah, boy do I remember. What's there to forget? The location? The company? The five gazillion locks to just enter the door?" he answered sarcastically.

"- And the door kick."

"Ah yes, the door kick," he nodded. "How could I forget? Then there was Paris, always there, watching us with a vigilant glare. What an experience!" he ended in a slight shiver.

"Well, yeah, but it was a part of me. It helped me grow up." Rory spun the spoon around in the carton, her forehead wrinkled in thought. "Getting rid of the apartment was another thing that helped me really get my butt in gear. It forced me to not settle for the status quo, to go after what I wanted."

The ice cream had melted considerably, and now Rory was spinning soupy cream. She took another spoonful, but the consistency left the cream dripping from the metal. Oblivious, Rory brought the spoon up, but a large drop fell on her skin, the cold cream landing on her chest above the cut of her V-neck shirt.

"Oh shoot," she cursed, dropping the spoon in the carton to lift the top of her shirt from her skin.

"Let me." Logan quickly reached over, swiping his finger over the drop of cream. "Mmm," he said smirking after he licked the cream from his finger.

Rory fixed him with a mocking glare. "Excuse you, sir."

"Oh, I'm sorry, did I miss some?" he teased wide-eyed. He leaned over, kissing her briefly before traveling down her neck, dropping kisses along the way. Rory raised the carton above her, giggling as his stubble tickled her skin, shivering when he almost reached the patch of skin still cold from the cream.

Rory's phone rang on the side table next to the couch, the familiar notes of "Dancing Queen," filling the room. Logan's lips paused over her skin, sitting up as he felt her move. She exchanged the carton with her phone, glancing at the screen briefly. "I have to take this," she muttered regretfully, slightly upset that their moment was broken.

"Hi, mom. What's up?" she answered. Logan sighed and sat up, grabbing the carton and two spoons before making his way to the stairs. Rory sighed and watched him leave with a frown. "Nothing much, just… um… watching TV before bed." He glanced at her once more before heading downstairs, the look his face held confusing her. "Yeah, I'm still here."

He returned a few minutes later, as her conversation with her mom came to a close. "Yeah, sure. No problem," she replied, watching him as he sat down next to her. "I love you, too. Later."

"Your mom okay?" he asked while his eyes fixed on the TV.

"Yeah, she's fine. Just had a proposition," she answered, hoping he would throw his arm back around her shoulders. She scooted closer to him, hoping he'd get the idea. "She wants me to stay with her over Valentine's day when I'm back in the States. She has a thing planned."

"Huh." Logan still didn't look at her, his voice even-toned. "You're okay with this? An interesting day to make you do something for her."

"Well, I had plans to stay with a friend, but this will be easier," she replied. Was it her or did his body stiffen?

"Even though she has a guy now, and I may have been there alone," she continued, willing him to look at her, "but I didn't want to crash there then. Kind of awkward."

"Well, I'm going back, too," he said, his voice sounding brighter. She swore she felt his body relax.

Rory's eyes widened in surprise. "You are?"

"I have some meetings I have to go to in New York," he shrugged. "And then I'll see Honor and the kids while I'm there, of course."

She grinned and relaxed, an unknown weight lifting off her shoulders. "That's good. You have to fulfill you uncle quota, right?"

"Yep, although I always wish I can see them more."

She smiled, noting the contented look that graced his features when he spoke of his niece and nephew. It always was nice to see. She was glad he found joy in his family after all these years.

Rory pulled the blanket, remembering that she hadn't finished cleaning herself up from the ice cream. She glanced around his living room and asked, "hey, where are your tissues? Did you bring up any napkins? I'm still sticky." she said, her finger rubbing at her skin.

Logan threw his arm around her shoulders, kissing her cheek before leaning her down against the pillows. "Oh, I can help with that," he smirked, content to continue where he left off earlier.

"No!" Rory shrieked in laughter, giggling as he pulled the v-neck aside to lick her chest. He met her lips once more, turning her giggles into moans.

* * *

Logan walked briskly along the corridor, nodding at coworkers who acknowledged him in the hallway. The marketing meeting had run late again, with too many members babbling about inconsequential topics and farfetched ideas. Painful as it could be to keep members on task, he finally reminded them gently that it was Friday, and wouldn't they want to finish their day's work so they could get home at a decent time? With that the meeting came to a quick end, his coworkers filing out, laughing along the way. Logan gathered his notes and left quickly, entering the elevator to go to the next floor. He had somewhere he needed to be.

He stopped at the end of the hallway, nodding to the brunette at the large desk outside the last door. "Hi Jeanine," he greeted. "He's expecting me. Running a bit late, though. Sorry. What can you do?" he shrugged and reached for the handle.

"Oh sir-," she began, stopping him.

"Is he busy?" he asked, turning towards her. "Is there someone in there now?"

"Yes, but he said to send you right in," she smiled. "Only a friend of the family."

Logan's eyes narrowed, wondering who could possibly be meeting with his father now. With another nod to Jeanine, he opened the door, pausing as he noted the familiar face sitting across from his father, laughing as they spoke.

"Son!" Mitchum exclaimed once he calmed his laughter. "You remember Malcolm, right?" he asked, gesturing to the man.

"Hi," Logan replied, shaking himself from his thoughts. "Nice to see you again, sir," he added, as he walked forward to meet him.

"Likewise." Malcolm rose to shake his hand briefly before sitting back down again.

"Sorry I'm late," Logan apologized sheepishly, slightly embarrassed at his tardiness in front of the guest. He cursed his father in the back of his mind, wishing the man would have hinted at a visitor.

"It's okay, not a problem," his father shrugged off. "We were out at lunch earlier. Now we were just chatting about the old days."

"Your father was quite the character, Logan."

"So I've been told," Logan said flatly, not in the mood to hear about his father's past.

The room fell into silence, Logan standing awkwardly off to the side. "So," Malcolm began after clearing his throat. "When are we going to meet up at the club?" he asked Mitchum.

"We should do it soon. I'll have some time at the end of the month when we can get together."

"I'll have Claudia call Shira. We'll make a day of it. Then I can give you pointers while they gossip," he joked.

"You'll be the one needing pointers," Mitchum grumbled. "You won't let me live that last game down, will you?"

Malcolm laughed. "Not if I can help it."

Malcolm sighed and looked between the two men, perhaps noting the change in temperature since Logan had arrived. "Well, I do need to get going," he said, standing slowly. "It was good seeing you again Logan. My, you look so grown up. It's hard to believe these many years have passed."

Mitchum smiled as he regarded his son. "Time sure does fly, doesn't it Malcolm?"

"It does indeed," Malcolm replied, reaching out to shake Logan's hand once more. Walking over to gather his coat, he stopped by Mitchum and said, "Now you'll remember what I said?"

"Yes, yes. I do," Mitchum answered quickly, walking Malcolm to the door. "I'll call you," he added after shaking hands, holding open the door.

"Stay mellow, Mitch," Malcolm ended, walking through the door and down the corridor.

Mitchum closed the door grinning, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Walking deeper into the room, he made his way over to his personal bar, filling a glass with scotch.

"So," Logan said slowly to his father's back, his voice laced with curiosity.

"Here son, have a drink." His father turned, offering a glass to Logan.

Logan took it with a frown. "Dad, is everything okay?"

"Fine, fine," muttered Mitchum, brushing off the question. His father walked over to the large leather sofa in the middle of the room, sitting down with ease. "How did the meeting go?"

"The meeting went as expected. Nothing big to announce," Logan replied as he sat on the sofa opposite his father. He leaned forward to look his father in the eye. "Don't change the subject, dad."

"Logan, everything is great!" Mitchum chuckled, raising his arms in exclamation. "Business is doing well. Better than we anticipated, so thank you," he nodded, raising his glass in cheers.

Logan's hand rested firmly on top of his thigh, not returning the motion. "Why was Dr. Wallace here, dad?" Logan asked, his eyes narrowing as Mitchum's hand froze.

Mitchum paused, seemingly collecting himself. "You know Malcolm is one of my oldest friends. We were on the track team at Yale together. I was the one who told him to stop acting like an idiot and ask out Claudia. We go way back."

"And he just so happens to be a leading cardiologist and the doctor you've been seeing lately," added Logan, not missing a beat.

"Well, he always was a geek," Mitchum said gruffly. "Listen, I like to get straight talk from a friend. None of this bullshit doctors give you when they really know nothing about your life."

"What did he mean at the end there?" Logan prodded, watching his father grow more flustered.

Mitchum huffed in agitation. "What? Must you make everything a puzzle?"

"It's just coming up to that time again, and I have to wonder –,"

"It's not what you think," his father cut him off, standing up slowly and walking back to the window.

Logan frowned as he watched his father's retreating form. "You're sure? If he's telling you to stay mellow, I think I should know if there's something -,"

"Jesus Christ, son," Mitchum interrupted with a growl, turning quickly to fix him with a glare. "Mellow is just an old phrase we said and still do. Don't analyze it."

"But –,"

"Leave it, son," he said with finality, turning back to gaze out the window, watching the cars and people below.

Figuring the conversation was a lost cause, Logan sighed and took a long drag of his drink. The room fell into silence once more, the minutes passing by as father and son lost themselves in thought.

Logan heard his father clear his throat. "You'll be heading up to your sister's?" Mitchum asked, still facing the window.

"Yes. Just for a bit before I leave. I wanted to see the kids."

Mitchum turned around, regarding his son with a neutral expression. "You're really going to be flying back so soon? Your mom and I won't get to see you."

He shrugged. "Didn't really work with our schedules, with mom visiting her brother now."

"Are you sure you can't spare an extra day, take you out to eat maybe on Tuesday?"

Logan's finger traced the rim of his glass, pointedly not looking at his father. "It's fine dad. I have things back in London to take care of."

"Well, even so," his father replied awkwardly, the tension growing in the large office.

There was a brief knock at the door and Mitchum allowed them entry. Jeanine stood at the entryway with a smile, unaware of the standoff she interrupted. "Mr. Huntzberger, you have your meeting at two."

"Oh yes, thanks, Jeanine. I'll gather my things." She nodded and closed the doors.

Mitchum set down his drink before walking to his desk. He grabbed a leather notebook, pausing before reaching inside a desk drawer. Meanwhile, Logan stood, setting down his own glass as he made to say his goodbyes.

Mitchum withdrew his hand from the desk, holding a small, rectangular box. "Well, since we won't be seeing you," he began as he walked over to his son. He held out the box awkwardly, and Logan took it slowly, studying it with a frown. "Happy early birthday, son. From your mom and me."

He glanced at his father, before running his finger along the edge, curious to see the contents.

Mitchum raised his hand, stopping his son. "No, no. Don't open it now. Later, for your birthday."

"What is it? I hope you didn't -,"

"Logan, you'll see. It's nothing much."

Logan met his father's eyes, Mitchum speaking before he could utter a reply. "I know haven't always been the best father."

Logan fought the urge to scoff.

"And I've really put you through the ringer lately. All these things I've asked of you and you've excelled at. And I know I don't, well," he tried to explain, obviously flustered. "I'm not the most expressive." Mitchum paused a moment to collect himself. "You've exceeded all expectations. I'm proud of what you've done here. Remember that," he said, the foreign praise surprising his son.

"Have a safe flight home," he ended by way of goodbye, Logan knowing that this was the most emotion his father had shown in some time. It was notably tough for him – his father always had a more comfortable way with Honor. She was the princess; he was the chronically misbehaving son.

"Thanks, dad," he muttered, attempting a smile.

His father grinned, patting his arm before walking away. Logan watched his father leave, still holding the box, turning it over in his hand. Once the door closed, Logan opened the cover, hoping to satisfy his curiosity over the strange gift. Inside the silk lining lay his great-grandfather's watch, one he often remembered his grandfather wearing. It was passed down from father to son, the father deciding when the time was right. For Logan, it was almost an indirect sign of approval, that despite his father's constant critiques these past few years, that perhaps he was ready with the company. That maybe he was doing alright.

Logan's focus turned toward the bookcase at the far side of the corner office. Among all the accolades, the books, life photographs interspersed with his father's awards, there were old photos of the elder Huntzbergers, legends within the company. There was one old photo of his great-grandfather and grandfather, studying a copy before it headed to print. Next to it stood another picture, this time of Mitchum and his parents upon his father's graduation from Yale. More recent family photos were included, too. There was a casual photo of his mother, Honor and himself sitting on their sailboat, taken on a warm summer's day at the Vineyard. There was even one of Honor, Josh, and their kids. To an outsider, it appeared as if Mitchum was the ultimate family man.

His eyes found another photograph, stuck in the corner, slightly hidden by his father's signed baseballs. It was a photo of just Logan and his dad at a Yankees game, sitting in the stands. Logan remembered the day well. It was an afternoon in late summer when Mitchum wasn't called away to the office. Logan had begged for months to go to a game, and Mitchum surprised him with tickets for just the two of them. For Logan, it was a rare opportunity where there wasn't talk of work or Logan's misbehavior in school. They were both brightly smiling as the man seated in front had offered to snap the photo; Mitchum had his arm thrown around his son and Logan had ketchup staining his replica jersey. He didn't care; this was one of the best days of the summer for young Logan. But this was back when Logan was still innocent, when he wasn't a disappointment. He wasn't getting into major trouble, and he had no family responsibilities. His father was merely a father, not one who questioned every decision he made, making Logan question his own choices in life. There was no ambiguity, not like today, wondering if what he was doing would please him.

Logan twirled the old watch, listening to it tick. The sound serenaded him as he stared at the photos, taking him back in time to when life was simpler. If he were honest with himself, he'd realize that in some ways, he was still that little boy, longing to be just a son, instead of continually yearning for his father's pride and recognition.

* * *

 **February 2010**

Logan burst through the elevator doors, walking quickly down the hallway, dodging the people loitering in the hall. He followed the signs to the central nurse's station – remembering he was to take a left when he reached the desk. All around him doctors and nurses walked in and out of doors, speaking softly and comparing notes and instructions. Logan shook his head at the scene, the depressive air doing little to improve his frantic mood.

He took his left, counting down to the fourth door on the right. A familiar sight greeted him, despite the time apart. She was seated on a chair outside the doorway, her eyes studying the floor.

"Honor?"

"Oh, Logan!" She greeted with a half-hearted smile, rising slowly to meet him.

"How's dad?"

"He's okay." He reached for her, pulling her into a hug. She clung to him for a moment, her head buried in his shoulder.

He drew back, noting the expression on his sister's face. "And how are you?" he asked with concern, rubbing his hands along her arms.

"Oh, you know." She shrugged noncommittally. "I'm so glad you're here," she added, smiling sadly once more.

Logan frowned, taking notice that she was waiting outside the room. "Did something happen? Can we not go in there? Oh god, what's happened now?" he questioned her quickly, wondering if there had been a turn in his journey here.

Honor shook her head, looking a bit frantic as she regarded his reaction. "No, nothing terrible has happened. Well, nothing more than what I told you." She paused, taking a deep breath, seemingly collecting herself for the news she was about to share. "Mom's in there."

"Mom. She's in there," he repeated slowly in disbelief. "Is she even lucid? Oh no, it must be awful. I half expected her to be in a spa right now or out in the smoking area, drinking gin out of a paper bag," he attempted to joke, his mother's self-destructive tendencies in crises well-known among the family.

"Yes, well, she's surprisingly not in a spa. She's very upset." Honor rolled her eyes as if the given reason explained everything, despite their parents' history. "It's shocking, but I think our parents might actually like each other."

Logan's eyes widened as he looked at the door, wondering how much he had missed in his time away. "She doesn't want him to wake up alone," his sister explained further, her voice soft.

Logan gazed back at his sister, fixing her with a curious stare. "Why are you out here?" Out of everyone, Honor was the closest to their father, Mitchum always treating her like a princess. They didn't have the same troubles as father and son. Logan longed for a relationship like that.

"I don't know, it was just… too much," she sighed, her eyes returning to the floor.

"Where's Josh?"

"He had to get ready for court. He's been so wonderful with everything. I couldn't let him skip this when he's been working on this case forever. He felt a little better knowing that you'd be here soon to help."

Logan grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze, passing her some comfort while she looked so despondent. "Do you want me to get you some coffee or some food?"

"No, no. I'm fine," she brushed off.

For the first time since their reunion, Logan wholly took in his sister's appearance. She looked tired, withdrawn, the dark circles under her eyes revealing the strain. "Honor, why don't you go home for a bit?" he suggested with concern. "Get some rest, take a shower. Take mom with you. I'll hold the fort here."

Honor's eyes widened in panic. "If I take mom home, I'll just have to watch her constantly, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. Who knows what she would do?" She shrugged, shaking her head. "Besides, she won't listen to me. I haven't been able to get her to leave yet."

"She will. I know you can convince her. You're not me, remember?" he added with a teasing smile.

"Logan, it's more than that. It's," she broke off, her eyes looking off to the side.

"What?"

"Nothing," she replied with a shake of her head.

Logan regarded her, noting to ask her about their mother later. "Listen, let me try. Mom's probably more exhausted than she realizes. Once she gets home, takes a shower, she'll sleep."

He knocked softly on the doorframe as he entered the room. His father lay before him, draped in blankets, tubes and machines connected to him, monitoring his progress. He looked gaunt and more than anything, he looked far older and weaker than Logan ever remembered him looking. His skin looked ghostlike under the fluorescence, his hair stringy among the pillow.

Pulling his gaze away, he looked to the bedside, finding his mother staring at his father with concern. "Mom?" he whispered, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. "How is everything?" he asked, wondering far more if she was alright than the man upon the bed.

"Logan! You came!" she exclaimed in a whisper, her eyes growing a little brighter.

"Honor phoned me as soon as it happened. I'm sorry I couldn't get here sooner, but with the flights and everything," he trailed off, hoping the answer would suffice.

"It doesn't matter, you're here now." She patted his hand, giving him a small smile.

"How's he doing?"

"Oh, the surgery went fine. He's a fighter, your father. Takes more than this to get him down." She shrugged before she continued, "I always warned him about his blood pressure. The doctor said to watch out, and look where it got him!"

"Well you know dad, he can be pretty stubborn," he reasoned.

Like Honor, his mother showed her exhaustion, the dark circles prominent despite the heavy makeup she wore. "Mom, why don't you go home for a bit? Eat something."

"Oh, I'm fine here."

"Mom, you look exhausted. He's been fine, right?"

"The doctor says he's recovering nicely."

He knelt in front of her. "Go home, mom. Eat, sleep, shower. Honor will go with you," he implored.

"Oh, I don't know. I don't want to leave him. And then you'll be here all alone when you just got here."

"Mom, I promise I won't leave him. You go. I'll be okay. I'm still a little tired from the flight so I won't mind being alone. Plus, I won't really be alone, with all the people in and out." His mother gazed at him, biting her lip as she considered his words.

"Well, if you're sure," she said, after a moment's deliberation.

His mother finally agreed to leave that night, after first declaring she must receive an update about her son's wellbeing. Logan gave a brief overview of his journey home to both her and Honor, making sure to reiterate that he was doing well. When his mother deemed the update satisfactory, she said that they could call for a car. Logan ushered them both in the vehicle, nodding as they reassured him they'd be back first thing in the morning. He gave one last pep-talk to Honor, telling her to relax, that their mom would be okay just this one night. He watched from the sidewalk as their car left in the cold night air, thinking about how funny life was, when not too long ago he was in African grasslands, surrounded by nature.

Logan eventually made his way back into his father's room, settling into the chair his mother once occupied. Due to the late hour, visitors to the floor were scare, with most noise coming from hospital staff. He was thankful his father was still dozing; Logan knew that if his father awoke, he would have no idea what do say.

The machines continued to softly beep in the background, the high-pitched notes accompanying his thoughts. He'd been alone with his thoughts for so long, it was a shock to his system to have to feel and share his emotions with familiars again.

When you're a child, you always think of your parents as invincible, especially someone like Mitchum. As a boy, he found the power his father commanded when entering a room fascinating. Like like the superheroes he read in his comics, his father had power too. As he grew older though, he realized that power came from intimidation, from the ability to hold so many careers and lives in his hand. The childhood hero figure loses its luster, slowly becoming the man that with his selfish tendencies, indirectly helps the bad guys win.

Logan reached for his father's hand resting on the blanket. He held it there for only a moment but quickly drew it back, the coldness in the limb shocking him. He didn't feel very familial now, despite the circumstances. It had been too long; too much time and anger had passed between them.

They didn't part on the best of terms when Logan left the company. The next time they met, it was his grandfather's funeral, and their encounter was less than pleasant. In fact, his mother was the only one who spoke to him. His father just grunted his replies; it was clear he still held a grudge. Logan only stayed a couple of hours that day, ensuring it was enough time to make the rounds and to look like a caring family member. In fact, Logan was confident that if his grandfather were alive, he'd criticize Logan's attendance after dishonoring the family as he had.

Logan tried adjusting his posture, trying to find some position comfortable in the lightly padded chair. He squinted his eyes; the fluorescent lights harsh against his retinas, but even harsher against his father's skin. The bitter smell of antiseptic assaulted his nostrils. He brought the coffee he collected earlier up to his nose, hoping the scent of the bitter liquid would help. He took a sip, but even the coffee tasted awful.

Logan hated hospitals.

Hospitals were dreadful places, places he tried to avoid if he could help it. As a child, he remembered spending a significant portion of his time in the hospital. His grandmother was very ill, but he didn't remember much of what the visits were. Towards the end, it was more visits to the hospice as she became sicker, but young Logan was too naïve and too shielded from reality to fully understand. And his grandfather died suddenly, so he was never able to visit him. Yes, he hated and avoided hospitals.

But there was that one time he dropped off a cliff to prove a point, leading to a painful result. Did he learn anything then? He discovered that actions had consequences, and maybe it wasn't wise to make such impetuous decisions under the fog of alcohol. But with the hospital, he learned that he hated the food, hated the lights, hated the smell, and hated the boredom from being bedridden. He only liked the painkillers, but then, who wouldn't?

Logan snorted as he took another sip of coffee, trying to ignore the taste. It was amazing how life turned out sometimes. His dad had major surgery and the whole family showed up. His mother, always poised and haughty, looked unrecognizable from grief and worry. Honor was the only one in control in this group; he'd always expected her to act like this for any family member. Hell, Logan himself even showed up after flying halfway around the world. Who would have imagined that?

If he was honest with himself though, it was Honor's desperate plea over the phone that led to his decision. Three years ago, he would have been too angry to make an effort. Logan guessed he grew up, but the reasoning went deeper, prior experiences giving him perspective.

Logan almost died during his stupid little trip to Costa Rica. His mother ran off to a spa, ignoring that there was any problem at all. His father, content to punish him for his near-death experience, avoided a visit, just to add to the pain his son was already feeling. But then his dad did show up after he was lectured over the phone. Maybe his father learned something then, that no one deserves to be alone in a hospital.

But Logan wasn't totally alone. He'd had her.

Her constant presence made the rehabilitation bearable. After his hasty retreat and their stilted goodbyes, Logan wondered if it was the final straw in their relationship, if he had screwed it up for the last time. But when her face was the first he saw when he woke up, worried and loving, it made all the difference in the world. He slept easy. He wondered how he could ever show how much it meant to him, to have her there to hold his hand.

Unfortunately, her grandfather's attack provided him with one such opportunity. The situations weren't exactly the same, but still – he wanted to be there with her. To let her know she wasn't alone. And he knew she appreciated it. In some way, he was doing the same with Honor now. She needed the support. But Honor didn't need him that much. She had her husband to help her, to be there for her, to let her know it would all be okay.

Logan jolted in his chair, pulling himself from his thoughts. He suddenly felt very alone, despite his father just laying feet away from him.

The door opened and the night nurse walked in, stopping as she noticed Logan in the chair. "Oh, hello," she greeted in a whisper. "I'm Christine"

"Hi. Logan," he pointed to himself.

She logged into the computer, opening his father's records. "I take it you're the son. I heard you had to travel far."

"Yeah, I was overseas, uh, backpacking."

She turned and winked. "Explains the beard."

"Uh, yeah." Logan rubbed his face. He'd forgotten his appearance. He was always cleanshaven here, but the beard was tangible proof of the journey he was on, a relic of another life.

"Well, it was good of you to hurry back."

"Mmm."

She walked around his father, checking machines and his vitals. Logan observed her with a frown, watching her as she noted things he didn't fully understand.

She finished with her work, logging off the system as she went to leave. Stopping by his chair, her voice pulled him from his thoughts. "You know, he's mentioned you."

"What?" he asked incredulously, meeting her eyes at her comment.

"He's groggy, so he doesn't remember. But he's mentioned all of you by name. Mumbles things."

"Drugs are a wondrous thing," he mumbled.

She smiled softly as she nodded back to his father. "I think he missed you."

Logan doubted her but knew it wasn't appropriate to share his life story. "It's been a long time."

"Well, you have a good evening. I'll be back in periodically and so will a doctor." She left closing the door behind her.

Logan turned back to his father, trying to avoid the information the nurse shared. He needed a distraction. He reached into his backpack, grabbing the laptop he kept there. He wasn't going to think of family now; he was going to write.

* * *

 **New York – February 2016**

"What a save!"

Ben giggled, giving his uncle a toothy grin. He mimicked Logan, raising his arms up in a cheer. The two were in the large playroom, his nephew standing in front of small toddler goal. Logan lobbed a large, soft ball gently to the small boy, allowing the child to make saves. The boy did well, although sometimes he fell over when trying to stop the ball, his body making the save instead of his arms. New York sports memorabilia covered the walls, while blocks and figurines littered the floor in the corner.

Logan glanced at the Rangers poster on the wall. "Lundqvist, great goalie, but will never win the cup," Logan muttered as he picked up the toys. Ben didn't entirely understand hockey, but he begged his uncle to play with him, in the end the two playing a mixed-up version of handball and soccer.

When Logan was finished, he picked Ben up, hoisting him on his side as he exited the room. "Hopefully you aren't a Knicks fan like your grandpa, too. You don't need that much pain in your life."

The two walked downstairs together, joining Honor in the kitchen. She was hard at work at the counter, her daughter Charlotte in her high chair. Setting his nephew down, Logan went to the bar, swiping a grape from the bowl. "I can help with dinner."

Honor eyed him over the cutting board. "I trust you with a knife, and that's about it."

"I'll have you know I've made many a dinner in my day."

"I know you can work a grill," she replied flatly.

"Please?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes, giving up. "Fine, you can help, but the oven is off limits."

"Please?" he begged again.

"Logan, I am making you a birthday dinner. Get over it." She put down her knife, fixing him with a glare. "I can't see you on your actual birthday, so you'll have to deal with this," she said harshly.

He grimaced. "Sorry."

Honor's face fell at his reply, picking up the knife once more. "I don't know why you can't come back over here in a few weeks."

"I have to work."

"Please, you can take time off. You're a Huntzberger, remember?" she added sarcastically.

"I have responsibilities," he countered. "Besides, I have to be in London for something."

She raised her brows at his answer. "Big party? Hmm."

"Tell you what, I'll take the day off when I turn forty," he replied with a smile.

"How thrilling." She walked over to the sink, washing the cutting board. "Do you have to leave so soon, too?" she asked, walked to the refrigerator.

"What, you want me crashing here on Cupid's big night?"

"Of course not. I'd throw you in a hotel," she answered, shooting him a smirk.

"I feel so loved and wanted," Logan quipped in reply.

They heard the front door open and loudly close, signaling Honor's husband's return. Josh walked into the kitchen, noting how his entire family was there. He set his briefcase on the chair, leaning down quickly to give his son a high-five. "What did I miss?" he asked, shooting looks between his wife and brother-in-law.

"We were just discussing Honor's big Valentine's day gift."

"Logan!" she exclaimed, throwing a dishtowel at him. Logan laughed, catching the towel.

Josh's face turned panicked, but there was a teasing glint in his eye. "Oh geeze, does that mean I have to put in the effort?"

"What does that mean?" asked Honor, aghast.

"Ooh, I love a good lover's quarrel," Logan chirped, reaching for another grape.

"Hey, like you're one to talk," said Josh, pointing at Logan.

"What?" Logan asked, his mouth full.

"You're the one with a fiancée. I'm married. It means I don't have to try anymore," he argued, before pointing at his wife. "She's stuck with me. What are your big plans, hot shot?"

"Nothing," Logan shrugged.

Josh stared at him in disbelief. "Nothing? Nothing! Dude, haven't I taught you anything?"

"She's working on a big thing. It isn't feasible." He looked up at Josh adding, "plus she's French," nodding with finality.

Josh shook his head, rolling his eyes. "Your funeral, man."

"You better be kidding about Valentine's day," Honor said.

Josh winked before grabbing his briefcase off the chair. "I'm going to drop this off in my office. Last time I forget stuff at work. I hate going in on the weekend. Overachieving first-years attack me with questions and won't let me escape," he joked. He kneeled to Ben and asked, "Want to join me, little man?" Ben smiled, reaching up to take his father's hand, the two leaving the room together.

Logan walked to the refrigerator, grabbing water before sitting on the barstool. Feeling eyes on him, he looked up, realizing Honor was fixing him with a questioning stare. "What?"

"She's working?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm," Honor replied, looking back down at the bowl she was currently mixing. "And you last saw her?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

"Is she going to visit you at all?" asked Honor incredulously after a moment.

"This is a busy time for her. You know that. They have a lot to put together."

"Seriously, how is this going to work Logan?"

"We've discussed it," he muttered, playing with the label on the plastic bottle.

"Really? It seems to me like you've barely thought this through at all."

"I have everything under control," replied Logan with a final glare, indicating he was done with the conversation. The two lapsed into silence, Honor gathering ingredients.

"You really have no plans for the big day?" Honor asked later.

"It's not that big of a deal. You know birthdays were never big occasions growing up."

"Just promise me, you'll take time for yourself?" she asked, smiling at him softly.

"I promise," he nodded, returning her smile.

Honor, satisfied at his answer, picked up the box of cake mix at her side. "Now, chocolate or vanilla confetti frosting?"

Later that evening found the two siblings on the couch, watching old sitcom reruns on TVLand.

Plates covered in crumbs sat on the coffee table, second helpings of the birthday cake she had made for him earlier.

"Well, I better be heading up," Logan said, moving his arms to lift himself.

Honor stopped his movement with a hug, burying her face in his neck. Logan moved his arms around her, squeezing her once before asking, "what is that for?"

"I don't know, you're just happy again. I like it." She drew back, smiling at him. "I'm glad to see you happy, that's all."

"Well, I am happy," he replied. "Today was great. Really, it means a lot that you did this."

She turned off the TV, deciding to head up as well. "We're family. It's what we do."

* * *

"Oh, shoot. I messed it up again."

"You need the remover?"

"No, I'm good," answered Rory with a smile toward her mother. "I just painted my toe, not my nail. It will come off." Lorelai shrugged and leaned down toward her toes, blowing gently on them to help them dry. "I don't know why I'm so sloppy all of a sudden."

"Face it, kid. You were never an expert at this."

Rory capped off the polish, setting it on the coffee table and adjusting her seating on the living room floor. Since her arrival earlier this week, Rory had relished the time she was able to spend with her mother. Stars Hollow was always a haven for her, sheltering her from the harshness of reality. Here she had good food, familiar faces and lazy days; work (or lack of it) could wait. Now here it was late at night, junk food surrounding mother and daughter as they painted their toenails, _When Harry Met Sally_ playing on the television.

"So, did you ever convince Luke to do the Valentine's day diner special?" Rory asked in between bites of her Red Vine.

"No," her mother replied. "He was very emphatic that there would be no way in hell everyone would get heart-shaped pancakes with strawberries and cream. He thinks it's ridiculous."

"I hope this doesn't mean that we'll be denied as well."

"Don't worry," Lorelai smirked. "I convinced him enough that he'll do it for the two of us."

Rory, choosing to ignore whatever her mother meant, turned her focus back to the TV. Meg Ryan had followed Tom Hanks and his film son, watching them from across the street as they got out of their small boat. "Do you ever stop and think about how creepy this movie is underneath everything? People think it's so romantic, but she is actually stalking him at the beginning. That's just weird."

Lorelai shrugged. "Dating has changed, that's all I can say. People can date without even meeting each other in person first." Lorelai picked up the white polish, shaking the bottle before gently opening it. "Speaking of dating, do you have any big plans for the occasion? I know we have our thing on the _special night_ , but how has singledom been? Have you managed to find a hot, young, single man to spend the evening with?" Rory grimaced to herself as her mother spoke. That sounded like something her mother would've done, not her. Rory was always more cautious. "What are all the kids doing now, Tinder? Are you Tindering, finding a steamy Tinder date?" ended her mom slyly.

Rory frowned. "You know what Tinder is? You know what it's for?"

"What? I'm young. I'm hip. I have a snapchat."

"Well, it doesn't matter. I have a boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, oh right." She paused. "Pete."

"Paul," Rory answered quickly, not sparing a look toward her mother.

"Oh right. Paul." Lorelai cleared her throat. "And how is Paul?"

"Actually," began Rory, trying to remain nonchalant and give nothing away to her over-curious mother. "I haven't seen him since New Year's Eve."

"You spent the evening together?" At Rory's nod, Lorelai added, slightly shocked, "I didn't know that." Lorelai took a moment, painting white hearts on her red toenails. "So," she continued casually, "no Valentine's?"

"No. He had a business trip anyway."

"Hmm."

Rory bit her lip, watching her mother. "I'm sorry Luke and you couldn't celebrate."

"It's fine," shrugged her mother. "I don't really need to celebrate one with Luke."

"Really?"

"You know that he's really not that into it." Her mother capped off the polish and sat back with a sigh. "Besides - he understands what we're doing and why we're doing it. He thinks it's something we should do instead. He's very supportive." Lorelai turned toward Rory, smiling gently. "Thank you by the way for coming, for taking the time out of your busy schedule. It means a lot."

"It wasn't a problem, not at all," she answered quickly, returning her smile. "It's important. I want to be here for her."

"It's just that we still have problems," her mother added quickly.

"That thing from the funeral still?"

"Yeah," he mother replied, slightly ashamed.

"Is the therapy helping?" Lorelai shot her a look. "Sorry. Dumb question."

"So!" sighed Lorelai, smiling brightly, but the joy not reaching her eyes. "You'll be a great buffer, kid!"

"Aren't I always?" she teased. "I just hope," she trailed off, thinking about the next day.

"What?"

"I hope she'll be okay. I can't even imagine what it's going to be like for her."

"She'll be fine. She's dealing, but she's fine. It's all we ever can do," Lorelai answered, reaching up to rub her daughter's arm.

First came a bang, then a grunt as the door flew open and Luke walked in, stomping the snow from his boots. "Hey," he greeted. "It's really coming down out there."

"Luke, look at our toes!" Lorelai wriggled her toes in his direction. "They're Valentine's themed."

"Er, how festive," he replied flatly.

"They are, aren't they?" Lorelai giggled. "You can never have too many hearts."

"Hey Luke, can you make us hot chocolate?" asked Rory sweetly.

"Ooh, that sounds good! Pretty please, Luke? Then you can join us and watch the movie."

Luke glanced at the TV, slightly grimacing as he recognized the film. "Right," he muttered with a thumb towards the kitchen. "I'll go do that now."

"He'll be snoring within the next twenty minutes," murmured Lorelai.

"Ten," countered Rory. "I bet you he's chugging warm milk as we speak."

* * *

 ***!* February 2010**

"We haven't talked much since you've been back. How are you really doing with all this?" asked Honor as she settled on the hard, generic hospital sofa. "With dad, with mom?" She paused. "With being back here?"

Logan sighed as he sat on the sofa next to her. He lifted his Styrofoam cup, taking a sip of the bitter liquid. His forehead wrinkled as he stared at the plastic lid. "I'm… dealing."

He had been back on American soil a little over forty-eight hours, and a majority of the time had been helping his mother and sister - completing chores his mother wasn't up for, making sure everyone had eaten, and other small things. His father had been in and out of sleep, allowing for little dialogue between the two. Logan preferred to keep himself busy helping, away from penetrating stares and curious questions about his past few years. He enjoyed the ambiguity he had now. Whenever he suspected an inquiry was about to commence, he'd leap up and find something to do. Now Honor and he had left their mom alone with a now-awake Mitchum, choosing to grab some coffee and find another place to rest. They found solitude in the floor's family lounge, surprisingly empty for the time of day. _Ellen_ played on the TV provided, the humor and good nature doing little to improve the mood in the room.

Logan felt Honor's eyes on him; he knew she didn't find his answer passable. Now that it was just the two of them, he mentally prepared himself for whatever she longed to say. "This is the third time I've seen you in three years. We've never gone that long before," she chided. "I've missed my little brother."

He grimaced to himself over her hurt tone. When their grandfather died, he briefly flew to Hartford to attend the funeral. He saw Honor for only a few hours, and the mood didn't provide much opportunity to talk. After he was fired, he spent his east coast visit with her and Josh, though it wasn't a happy visit. Those first few days he was too withdrawn to enjoy her company. He only told her his plans to travel the day before he left, and she was too angry to talk with him the rest of his visit. "I've missed you too, Honor."

"It's been hard without you."

Logan found that hard to believe. They were undoubtedly close, but she was never alone. She had her own friends and family, her pleasant life in the city. "You have Josh," he muttered, wincing at the harshness he didn't mean to slip through.

If she heard his tone, she ignored it. "The family isn't the same when you're gone. Even though they don't say it, Mom and Dad miss you too," she added softly, watching for his reaction.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Really? Did they miss their scheduled admonishments?"

"Logan -"

"Sorry." He turned his eyes to the TV, hoping for the program to calm him. Perhaps it could dissuade her mood to talk, to move her away from speaking about his life.

"There's been so much I've wanted to share with you," she said after a pause, letting him finish watching the comedic segment.

"We could talk on the phone."

"Yes, because that was totally feasible where you were," she quipped flatly.

"So, tell me now. How's work and New York life treating you?" he asked, turning his body to face her.

Honor's eyes brightened. "Great! I love my job. I still get to see my friends from school from time to time, and I've made new friends in the city. Josh is doing great at the practice. He's really making an impact. He's always had the brains, but now the success is coming. I'm so proud," she praised, a broad smile on her face when she thought of her husband.

"Of course he has brains. He fell in love with you. Smart guy, that Josh."

"Yeah, I'm thrilled I married him," she responded, blushing slightly. "He was never who I expected to ever end up with, but it's been wonderful all the same."

Logan turned back to the TV but caught Honor in the corner of his eye. Her smile had faded, the brightness in her eyes disappearing. She was looking down biting her lip, picking at her cuticle. It was one of her tells, and he focused back on her, wondering if he missed something in her reply.

"Honor," he asked softly. "What else?"

"Oh nothing, it's silly," she brushed off, looking away from her hands and at the TV, trying to hide her face from him.

His eyes narrowed as he watched her. "It isn't. What's wrong?" he asked again, noting how her behavior had grown more fidgety – another trait of hers when trying to change from a complicated subject.

"As I said, it's silly. I don't know why I'm even thinking about it now given the circumstances. Just ignore me."

"Is it dad? Mom?" he prodded.

"No," she answered quickly, determinedly not looking at him.

"Obviously it's something, or you wouldn't be acting like this." He watched her body respond, her feet shuffling. "I know we haven't seen each other in a long time," he said softly, "but we are still siblings. Close siblings."

"Not that close," she muttered.

"I'd beg to differ, granted how mom and dad were pretty absent emotionally. I know more than most brothers know about their sisters. You've been different since I've been back, and I'm ninety-five percent certain it isn't solely because of dad," he explained. It was true; he had noticed a change. She was quiet with their mother – well, abnormally so – and despite their father's recent turn, the man was still okay. Logan suspected that their father's episode wasn't the entire cause of her frantic, emotional call to him in Africa, especially now that they were together and he could see her behavior.

"Honor, please let me help," he beseeched her, laying a hand on her shoulder.

"I suppose not everything is wonderful," she murmured, gazing at her hands.

"Is it Josh? I swear to god if he's doing something –"

"Logan, please. It's nothing like that," she interrupted, her eyes wide as she looked up at him.

"Really? Please don't lie to me."

"Josh is perfect. It's not Josh," she said, her voice hard, eyes steely. "Our marriage is perfect," she repeated, looking ahead. Logan watched her, waiting for her to continue, knowing that she was psyching herself up for whatever came next.

"I don't know why I'm even telling you this," she mumbled quietly after a time, before taking a deep breath and meeting his eyes.

"I had a miscarriage recently."

"Oh Honor," he said softly.

"I haven't told him yet," she added, her voice flat.

Logan felt awful and selfish. Here he was, acting like a child these last few days, petty in his behavior toward his parents. Meanwhile, Honor was dealing with something more personal and heartbreaking, all the while trying to act strong for her parents and himself, carrying the family on her shoulders.

"We've been trying for a while now. And it isn't the first time this has happened."

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, wishing he knew of something more substantial to say than the trite reply.

Honor shuffled her feet on the floor, a sad smile on her face. "That first time, he was so excited. He already started researching, looking online, wondering what we needed to do in the apartment." She paused and her smile fell. "Then it happened, and he was crushed. And then it happened again, and again. He was still hopeful, but I could tell it was hurting him just as much as me." She bit her lip as she frowned.

"This last time, I suspected, and took the home test. He has been so busy lately, with so many late nights, it was easy to keep it hidden. I made the appointment without telling him, thinking I could surprise him once I had confirmation from the doctor. I thought that maybe it would be easier this time, to keep it secret this time until I knew for sure," she trailed off before taking a deep breath, Logan understanding the optimism she once had in her unspoken words. "I planned to tell him, I did!" she added. "But as quickly as the happy news came, the unthinkable happened again. I struggled with what to say to him. And then I got the call from mom," she said, her voice dropping, growing weary. "It just never seemed like a good time."

"Other than Josh, am I the first one you've told about all this?" he asked rubbing her arm, hoping to give her some comfort.

"My friends – as great as they are – none of them really understand. I know most girls would tell their mothers and ask for advice and support but honestly, when has our mom been motherly? And it's no secret our parents married because of me. Mom was lucky that way," she ended in a scoff. "And now, she keeps pestering me, asking if we have any plans for children, and it's all I can do to hold my tongue."

"Hon…. I don't even know what to say."

"I know." She shrugged. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

She blinked quickly and looked down, shielding her eyes. Logan threw an arm around her shoulder and she wiped quickly at one eye. "I thought that it would happen this time. This time the baby would make it."

"You should tell him. He'll want to know."

"I was going to tell him, I was," she repeated from earlier. "And then this happened, and I don't know, there was a change in priorities."

"It's still important to the two of you. That's what marriage is – a partnership in good and bad." He rubbed her arm, giving her a moment as she wiped her eyes again. "What do the doctors say?"

"That for some people it's more difficult. Physically, I'm fine. And there are options."

"It will happen, I know it will," he said with surety. "It will happen when it's right."

"You think so?" she asked, her voice sounding small.

"I know so. You're going to be such an awesome mom. You'll know exactly what not to do. And Josh will be an excellent geeky dad."

She chuckled, wiping her eyes again.

"Seriously, I bet he's going to buy as many science books and educational toys as possible while teaching him everything there is to know about _Star Trek._ They'll be experts on the history of Klingons before they reach kindergarten."

"I needed that," Honor ended with a giggle, sitting up from his shoulder. She gave him a brief hug, drawing back and looking at him with a serious expression.

He found her stare unnerving. "What?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I just missed having your shoulder to cry on, you to talk to. It's kind of hard to do when you're thousands of miles away."

"I'm always here for a shoulder."

"For now," she muttered, turning around to lean her head against him again. They sat silently, sipping their coffees as _Ellen_ finished above.

"Are you going to be here?" Honor asked softly when the credits began to roll.

He looked at her curiously. "I don't plan to leave in the next few days."

"Not now, later. Are you going to be around?"

Logan's breath caught as he realized that she was asking what he planned to do now that he had returned. "I don't know," he replied.

"If I have a kid, will you stay?"

"I don't know where I'm going to go." It was true; he hadn't given much thought to his next step. His only idea had been to live in the moment, but as he discovered recently, some events don't give you much choice.

"I don't mean next door. I just want you available. Not where I have to wonder which country you are in, if you are reachable, if your relationship to our parents will hinder our own relationship. I would like my future kids to know their uncle."

"Of course they'll know me," he said affronted.

"Why did you do it?" she asked, her voice curious but harsh. "Why did you leave us, cut us all out of your life? You cut me out," she ended sadly, probably wondering if her actions had contributed to his decision.

Logan breathed deeply, wishing he could find a way to tell her. "It was something I had to do, Honor. Palo Alto helped a little."

"Only a little?"

"Honor, those two years in California - I was trying to wrestle with what I wanted out of my new life, but I didn't accomplish it. I needed more. It took venturing out on my own to do it. I had to allow myself that time to, I don't know, heal," he explained, hoping it could bring some clarity.

"You act like you were irrevocably broken, the poor little rich boy who didn't get his way."

He shrugged. "Maybe I was."

"That seems like such a bullshit excuse."

"I can't explain it without being melodramatic. I really had to go find myself."

"And have you?" she asked, her voice laden with curiosity. "Have you found yourself?"

"Parts. Some things, the old part of me? I fear they are lost forever."

 ***!***

* * *

 **Hartford – February 14, 2016**

"You do it."

"Why don't you do it?"

"I'm old and my hands are numb. And I'm your mother, so I always win."

Rory rolled her eyes, removing her hand from her coat to ring the doorbell. She jumped at the cold metal, bringing her hand quickly back into her pocket as they both waited for the door to open.

"Oh thank the Lord, finally!" exclaimed Lorelai, teeth chattering as they heard the door unlock. "Warmth, here we come."

The door creaked open and the women stared slack-jawed at the women across the threshold. "Mom, you opened the door," Lorelai said as she walked in, looking at her mother strangely.

"Lorelai, I'm perfectly capable of opening a door. How are you dear?" she asked, turning to her granddaughter after closing the door.

"Hi, grandma." Rory reached over to give the older woman a hug.

"You normally don't open the door. That's something the maid does, as you told me repeatedly throughout my childhood."

"I gave everyone the night off. It's Valentine's day you know Lorelai."

"Is it? Here I thought it was Halloween."

Emily led her granddaughter through the sitting room and into the dining, Lorelai following behind. "Now, I have a nice spinach salad to start. If you want to help me gather, I would appreciate it," she said, patting her granddaughter's arm. Emily paused and turned around to her daughter, standing in shock at the decorated table. "I have Chardonnay for the evening. Would you like to pour, Lorelai? It's there on the table, already chilled."

Lorelai stared at her in disbelief, her mouth agape. "You cooked?"

"Grandma," chimed in Rory, "you did all this? It looks wonderful!"

"It feels like you two don't know me at all," Emily replied affronted.

Lorelai rolled her eyes, scoffing as she said, "we do know you, hence the surprise."

"But a nice surprise," added Rory, who had picked up the wine and clicked her tongue at the familiar label.

Emily stood behind a chair, placing her hands upon the back. "When I was in college, we were required to take homemaking courses. I've always known how to serve a meal," she said, leaning down and straightening a fork. "And there's this wonderful market called Whole Foods right down the street. The staff there is most helpful."

"I know what Whole Foods is, mom."

"Well, I hope you find it satisfactory."

"I'm sure I will, mom."

Minutes later, Rory and Emily managed to bring all food to the table, choosing to eat family style, as odd as it was for the younger Gilmore girls. Rory complimented her grandmother repeatedly, fawning over the different selections, telling her how much she appreciated it. Emily glowed under the praise, looking considerably happier than she had in recent months.

"I can't believe this is my first Valentine's day without him," commented Emily towards the end of their dessert. "Richard always loved this holiday."

"Really?" asked Lorelai, reaching for her wine. "I don't remember."

"We always celebrated. We certainly had our fun."

Lorelai choked slightly on her wine. "Ugh."

Emily fixed her with a stare. "Try not to be too graphic, Lorelai." Emily turned to Rory, smiling once more. "He was always the romantic one. Of course, he brought me flowers and gifts,"

"Rory, please remember that this holiday is more than flowers or gifts," Lorelai interrupted, not withering under her mother's glare.

"You know, Lorelai, he did try to give you things when you were young. One time he had the idea to put red food coloring in your morning milk. You, of course, screamed and he took it away. He never tried it again. He knew you liked chocolate, though."

"Hey mom, you did that with me!" exclaimed Rory, her grin dimming as her mother took another long drink of wine.

"The first year we were married was grand. You know, it's true what they say about the honeymoon year."

"Mother, please. Not in front of the grandchild."

Emily continued to face Rory, ignoring her daughter's outburst. "We would go dancing, and he'd bring me home gifts just because. We had our date nights and we'd come home so in love."

"Then your mother came along. Things changed," Emily shrugged.

"Gee, sorry I ruined it for you," interjected Lorelai.

"Lorelai, please."

"Mom, I don't need this right now," Lorelai begged.

"If you allowed me to continue Lorelai –"

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Fine, go ahead."

"It's different with a child. Your priorities change. You still care deeply for your spouse, but time is limited. You have to find different ways to show you care. I never felt ignored," she said, glancing at Lorelai at the end.

"If my favorite song came on the radio, he'd still stop to dance with me. When he went on company vacations, I would receive flowers at random times, no note included. I asked him once why he sent them and he said, 'because I would be in the office, hundreds of miles away and think, I miss her.' So when he sent me flowers, he just wanted to let me know he was thinking of me."

"That's where all the flowers came from," murmured Lorelai.

Emily nodded. "Yes. For him, it was all about the details. I wish I was as good as he was about remembering everything."

"Like the song," Rory interrupted, remembering a time not too long ago.

"Pardon?" asked Emily confused.

"Yeah, song?" Lorelai added, baffled at Rory's memory.

"At the wedding. Your first dance," she explained.

Emily's grin grew wide, her eyes sparkling. "Where he wanted me to call him Bill for the evening."

"You were so shocked he remembered," said Rory, returning her grandmother's grin, reaching out to pat her grandmother's hand resting on the table.

"He was always so wonderful. It wasn't always grand gestures. It was all the little things he did to show he cared."

Emily was silent, biting her lip and picking at her napkin deep in thought.

"He wrote me letters," she said after a moment.

She sighed wistfully, smiling as she continued. "The night before our wedding, he had a letter delivered to me. He wrote how pleased he was to marry me, and just how much he looked forward to spending our lives together." Emily huffed lightly. "Of course, I assumed he found out about the letter his precious mother had written, so he wrote me his own letter quickly, as a way of ensuring I would not call off the wedding," Emily quipped sarcastically.

"Well, we got married, and I had forgotten the incident, thinking nothing more of it." She smiled gently. "But then the days and years passed, and he still wrote me letters."

Rory smiled as she watched her grandmother fall into memories. Rory didn't prod for the contents of those letters, realizing that they were perhaps too private for her grandmother to share. But if she knew her grandfather – and she knew him well – she supposed they contained excerpts from Byron, Shakespearian sonnets, and others, interspersed with his own words of love. Rory was grateful her grandmother chose to share the information so that she could learn another facet of the man she admired.

Emily blinked quickly, bringing herself out of her thoughts. "Ah! It's Valentine's day and here we are reminiscing. Enough about me, I want to hear about the men in your lives."

"It's good mom. Luke actually bought a razor the other day at Doose's. Just for the occasion."

Emily ignored her, smiling at Rory. "How is it going with the man you're seeing?"

Rory blushed and gave no reply, choosing to pick at the tablecloth.

"It's nice to see you so in love these days."

"Well, I," Rory started, wondering how to correct her grandmother. Emily was lost in the past, seeing things she wanted to see.

"You positively glow all the time," she added, Rory not sparing her a glance.

"Thank you, Maybelline," chimed Lorelai.

"He treats you well?" Emily asked.

"Yes," replied Rory, briefly nodding and meeting her eyes. Her mind didn't think of the brunette, but instead, her thoughts immediately went to a smirking blond with mischievous brown eyes.

"I don't want to be too forward, but make sure you find a man who will treat you like Richard treated me. I never doubted I was cared for. Find someone who doesn't put you on a pedestal. One who knows all your faults and loves you anyway. Lord knows I wasn't perfect, but I still felt like his equal."

Rory smiled softly, observing how her grandmother's eyes glowed. "You two worked well together."

"Ah, I miss him. Especially tonight."

* * *

"It was good to see Rory," commented Emily, waving a plate around. She forced her daughter (in a way only Emily was capable) to help her clear the table, sending Rory away. Lorelai grumbled but followed her lead, wishing it was her that her mother sent on an errand instead of Rory. Rory was upstairs searching, probably ambling through the rooms, leaving Lorelai more time alone with her mother.

Lorelai cringed as the wet plate slid a little in her mother's hand, trembling ominously in her grasp. "Mom, why don't you let me do it?"

"What?"

"I'll wash, you can put them in the dishwasher."

"Oh, alright." Emily stepped away from the sink, trading places with her daughter. "I was glad she was able to come tonight. I figured she'd be with the boy."

"What boy?" Lorelai asked quickly, her mind preoccupied with scrubbing the dirty plate.

"What boy? Honestly, Lorelai, were you even listening to your daughter?" replied Emily, stunned. "The boy she's seeing."

"Oh yeah," she said, briefly remembering the nice but rather uninteresting boy her daughter had brought home. "Him."

"I figured you would care a bit about the boy she's seeing."

Lorelai bristled, glancing at her mother. "Of course I do, it's just," she trailed off, not willing to share what little Rory confided in her. "I sometimes forget, with everything going on in our lives. I know he's on a business trip this weekend," she smiled, hoping the information placated her nosy mother.

"On Valentine's Day? How horrible," Emily sighed.

"The world must go on, mother," she replied flatly. "Honestly, I don't think she sees much of him." Lorelai frowned. "Something seems… off about it," she muttered, cursing herself for speaking her ending thought aloud.

"Off? Does he mistreat her? Lorelai –"

"Yes, mom," she answered sardonically. "He spends the night prowling the streets as an ax murderer."

"Lorelai-"

Lorelai groaned and rolled her eyes. "No, mom, he doesn't mistreat her, at least from what I've seen."

Emily scowled, her brows raising as she dried a cup. "Is it serious with this boy?"

"No, at least I don't think so. Not in the way you're thinking so don't get any ideas."

"I wish she would find someone. I do worry about her out there alone all the time," Emily lamented. "And I can't deny that I'd like to see her married and in love."

Lorelai wouldn't admit it, but she wanted that too, at least to see Rory in love. She always wanted her daughter to achieve what she couldn't, but the romantic in her wished that same feeling for her daughter that she got when she was around Luke. "She's strong, mom. She's independent and so young. Nothing says she needs a man," she reasoned.

"I know that Lorelai. I'm just getting older and you are too. There's a part of me that wishes she had someone. Like you do, with Luke."

The way her mother spoke had Lorelai wondering if Emily forgot how young Rory was. She knew her mother read; didn't she know people settled down later in life these days? "She has ages to find someone. Not everyone needs to be in a relationship."

"I know. It's the holiday. I want her to have what I had," Emily sighed wistfully.

"She'll find it one day. She's dated."

"Seriously?" asked Emily, glancing at Lorelai curiously.

"I guess." Lorelai paused, remembering she didn't have an answer. "Actually, I don't know. I don't think there's been anyone like that since," Lorelai trailed off, her forehead crinkled in thought as she stared into the soapy water.

Lorelai thought of the last several years after Yale, trying to remember if Rory mentioned anyone the way Lorelai knew she could in the past. Sure, Rory brought boyfriends home, but it was usually only a visit, quick enough to understand Rory was not involved emotionally. It was apparent that Rory preferred the company of a man but never came off as invested in their relationship. She briefly remembered Paul, thinking how odd it was that Rory brought him home a second time. He was a nice enough boy, but he was like Dean – a great boyfriend but lacked any sort of spark. But Lorelai realized with a flash that the boy was safe, just like all the others. Rory often forgot about him, which is why it was so surprising to Lorelai that they spent New Year's together. Usually, it would suggest more, but Lorelai knew her daughter. At least, she thought she did.

"She doesn't talk to me about stuff anymore," Lorelai began softly, not sparing a look toward her mother. "She used to be so forthcoming about her life. We were best friends. But now? So much about her life is an enigma. I have no idea what her career is like. She sometimes sends me articles she writes, but otherwise, I have to search to find her byline. Her life in New York is a complete mystery. And this guy she's with? I just don't know." She shrugged. "If she's had serious boyfriends since Yale, she's never brought them up."

"Has she ever said anything about him?" Emily asked quietly, Lorelai's thoughts immediately returning to Rory's graduation, watching her daughter refuse her long-term boyfriend under the tree. Lorelai shook her head.

"I suppose she's over him, then," murmured Emily, kneeling to load the dishes on the counter into the dishwasher.

Of course Rory was over him. Lorelai never questioned her daughter's decision that day, knowing that Rory knew herself best and if she wasn't ready, she wasn't ready. But a part of her was surprised, knowing how much her daughter cared for the young man. Lorelai was often jealous as she watched them together; they made their relationship seem so easy, primarily when she fought with Christopher or Luke. Rory did not seem to share her mother's self-destructive tendencies when it came to relationships, her daughter always throwing herself in one hundred percent, always choosing to fight instead of Lorelai's tendency of flight. Which was why her daughter's recent habit of six-month nobodies bothered Lorelai more than she could say.

"Maybe she was."

Emily frowned, confused over her daughter's comment after several minutes of silence. "What?"

"I think she was hurting after Yale, I just never asked. I didn't want to open old wounds. Plus she was off on her own, traveling by herself for the first time, just getting started in her career. I thought she was happy with her choices. She was so busy, distracted by the excitement of the campaign trail. If she was hurting, she hid it well," Lorelai said, trying to remember the conversations she had that summer with her daughter, to remember if there were any clues hidden in her daughter's words.

"You should have asked her," Emily admonished, clearing the counters of the leftover meal.

Lorelai bristled. "I'm not nosy like you are. I never demanded to know everything about my daughter," she replied harshly.

"Well, what was I supposed to do? You wouldn't talk to me. It was like pulling teeth!" argued Emily, her shoulder's straightening under her daughter's scrutinizing stare.

"Maybe because it always ended in a fight!"

Emily clicked her tongue in annoyance as she tidied up the kitchen. "This is just so typical of you Lorelai. I try to help, and you end up blaming me instead."

"Great, just another thing to bring up at our next appointment then," grumbled Lorelai in reply.

Rory burst through the kitchen door, unaware of the argument she interrupted.

"Grandma, I found it."

Emily turned toward her granddaughter, smiling brightly. "Oh, good. Thank you, dear. Let's go back to the sitting room," she said, leading Rory back through the door, leaving Lorelai alone in the kitchen.

* * *

 **February 24, 2010**

Logan stood in the back of the room, waiting while his family and father's friends huddled around the hospital bed, offering Mitchum their well-wishes. His father was alert and jovial, laughing boisterously as his doctor told another joke. It was a final run-down of Mitchum's new lifestyle, reviewed carefully with the family so "everyone was on the same page." The guests eventually petered out, leaving the room filled only with his immediate family.

"Mitchum, I believe it's time I take off," said Shira with a sigh, leaning down to give her husband a kiss. "I have to go and get the house prepared, make sure we have your new diet fully stocked in the kitchen."

"Gee, I can hardly wait," his father muttered. "But at least I'll be out of here, so I'll take the trade."

"That's the spirit," she ended with a smile, stepping back to allow Honor her time.

"Bye dad," Honor said with a kiss on his cheek. "Josh and I will come up and see you later in the week." She squeezed his hand before stepping back. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"I feel right as rain now, especially compared to before," he replied with a smile to the two women in his life. They all then looked at Logan in the corner, who had remained silent during the whole exchange. "Why don't you two go ahead? I want to speak to Logan for a moment."

Shira left with a smile, Honor glancing back once more to shoot Logan a look. Ignoring her, he stepped forward to the bed, wondering what his father could possibly want to discuss.

Logan doubted he remembered that his birthday was today. Everyone else had been otherwise preoccupied.

Mitchum waited until the door was closed, silently studying his son. Logan coughed and looked at his hands. He really had no idea what his father wanted to talk about, and Logan feared it could be critical as it always used to be. He held out slight hope it could be positive news, his father's brush with death bringing out a lighter, happier side since he'd been awake and alert.

Mitchum cleared his throat. "It's been good to see you son. It's been a long time," he said gruffly with a slight frown.

"Um, yeah. Since grandpa's funeral two years ago."

"How was- "

"I was in South Africa last," he interjected quickly, hoping to speed the conversation along.

"- Africa."

"Ok."

"Boy, you are loquacious," chuckled Mitchum. "You're a writer, and it was just okay."

"It was incredible." Logan couldn't help but smile as he remembered his travels.

"You know, your mom worried about you, traveling all over the place. She would ask me, 'do you think he's really okay out there?' and I would have to calm her down. I think she had some sleepless nights." Mitchum paused to look down at his hands, picking lint off the blanket. "I have to admit that I was worried too. Some of those things you did!" he ended, his eyes wide in amazement.

"I was fine," Logan brushed off. He paused, a frown forming as he considered his father's words. "Wait. How did you-?"

"I read your articles and your blog," Mitchum answered with a nonchalant shrug. "They were excellent. I was very impressed."

"Really? I'm surprised you took the time."

"You're my son," his father replied firmly. "Of course I keep track of you." He breathed deeply before he added, slightly hesitantly, "I've always kept track of you."

"I should have known," Logan scoffed, knowing fully well what his father was capable of.

Mitchum rolled his eyes. "Don't be so melodramatic. A parent always wants to know about their child, even when they're grown. You'll discover that one day."

"Maybe," Logan muttered, the room filling with silence once more.

"I know you were very successful in California. I'm sorry it ended the way it did," his father added apologetically, after allowing a moment for his son to calm down.

"It's fine dad," he said, trying to brush off the topic. His business failures were not a topic he wished to discuss with his father - ever if he had a choice.

"It isn't fine, it was bullshit," he father grumbled out, the harshness in his voice surprising Logan. "You were an asset and they threw you away. I know your value. They're the idiots."

Logan stared at his father, wondering just how much the old man knew about his failed career in Palo Alto. He never told anyone outside of Finn, not even Honor, the true reason for his firing. He supposed it was his father's intuition and nothing more supplying the man's outburst. Logan had wondered during his last few days working for his father if the man appreciated the work he put in there. He indeed was angry at his son's foolishness when the deal fell through. In the end, Logan chose not to listen to his father's disapproval. Instead, Logan cut ties with the family business, venturing out on his own and sharing his ideas with others. He succeeded for a time, gaining confidence in himself and his abilities as his own man. That is before it all changed.

"Do you plan to leave soon, go back to the great outdoors?" asked Mitchum, drawing him away from his thoughts.

"I don't know. I …" Logan trailed off, his brows furrowing as he considered his answer. Logan had left South Africa quickly dropping all his plans, the fear in his sister's voice deciding his future for him. In those hours on the plane, he never thought once about returning, picking up where he left off. Now faced with the question, he wasn't sure what his next step was. "I don't know," he replied finally, settling on ambiguity. He'd think about it later that evening, away from his father's penetrating stare. "I'm working on something in the meantime, though."

"Important?" his father asked offhandedly, as if he didn't care to know the answer. Logan knew better – his father was digging for information while acting unconcerned.

"I hope so."

"Son - I asked you to stay behind for a reason."

 _And there it is_.

"I want to ask you a favor," he announced after a pause with a slightly nervous tone.

"Really?" Logan tried to hide his sarcasm.

"Come back."

"What?"

"Come back to the company," his father repeated quickly.

"Dad –" he breathed out, too shocked to form an adequate reply.

"I won't be allowed to go back to work for a while," he interrupted. "Even when I can, I won't be allowed to work as before right away. It's going to be some time."

Logan willed himself to answer no, that there was no way he could possibly come back. Yet he couldn't find his voice.

"I don't trust those bozos running the office. And I sure as hell don't trust your uncle," Mitchum grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"You chose those sycophants," Logan muttered.

"That's the problem. They'll keep the status quo. They won't tell me a problem until it's too late. They'll keep everything bottled up until it's in crisis mode, that's if they don't fuck it up enough that I hear it through the grapevine first," he ended in a growl. Logan knew these employees he spoke about. Good for normal company maintenance, but useless in a crisis. As much as he hated to admit it, his father was good at his job, mitigating the effects of something that had the potential to be devastating. "Anyway, it's especially important now, what with the way things are in this new technological world of ours.

"I trust you more," Mitchum said seriously, looking into his son's eyes. "I value your expertise and insight."

Logan ground his teeth, leftover anger from his past bubbling inside of him, wishing to make an appearance. "I thought that you didn't want that years ago," he said quietly, squashing his harsher feelings back into his gut.

"I was a putz," Mitchum stated firmly, his shoulders falling in defeat. "Logan, the company needs someone like you right now. Desperately." His eyes followed his son as Logan paced agitatedly around the small room. "It's just for a while," he said solemnly. "Until I get on my feet."

Logan stopped next to the bed. "I don't know, dad."

"Just for a bit, then you can be on your way. Move on with your career." Mitchum waited for Logan to meet his eyes again. "Give me a chance to make this right."

The mood was broken by a knock on the door, a hospital orderly standing outside the room.

"Sorry to interrupt," the man interrupted with a smile. "I've got your dinner here, Mr. Huntzberger."

"Yum. My last meal," he said facetiously, moving himself up to use the bedside table. "I can hardly wait."

Logan fell into the guest chair next to the bed, watching his father joke with the man. He mulled over his request, his father's words repeating over in his mind. Never did he imagine that his return home would lead to this – his father apologizing for the error years ago and admitting he needed his son.

Logan must have entered a parallel universe during the flight.

The man left and closed the door, leaving father and son alone once more. Mitchum grimaced and picked at his food, the heart-healthy option not up to Mitchum's usual culinary standards.

"If I accept this," Logan began, waiting for his father to look up. "Some things will have to change. It can't be like before."

"Look," Mitchum said, putting down his fork. "All it takes is a brush with death to realize your mistakes. We need you."

"You do," Logan replied flatly, not entirely believing his words.

"The company is suffering."

"Everyone is suffering," he argued. "The recession hit us all."

"You have an understanding of this new market. It's something an old guy like me doesn't get," he reasoned. "We need you."

"But do you really need me?" Logan asked staring at his hands, hating the way his voice almost whined like when he was a young boy.

"Your mom and sister miss you. You may not realize it, but the family hasn't been the same since you left." Mitchum paused, breathing deeply before he added solemnly, "I need you, Logan."

Logan's breath caught at his father's words. He looked up and met his eyes, noting the seriousness in his expression.

"We can repair things," his father continued. "Then you can go on your way, move on to brighter horizons. We can leave things on better terms. The economy will be better then, you'll see."

Logan stared back at his hands, reflecting on the time spent during his visit home. Could he risk going back and working for his father again? As much as he enjoyed the traveling and writing, a part of him did long to be back home. He could see his friends again. He could see Honor. He knew from their conversations that Honor was going through a rough time with the family, his father's revelations confirming it. And she was right – he did want to be around and be an uncle if the situation arose. But that didn't mean he had to work for his father again.

Or he could.

He could do what his father said. He could work for a time, reacquaint himself with the industry. He could build up his name, then find something else that met his fancy. A career that gave him the flexibility he wanted. A place where he could succeed.

"Come home, son," his father ended gently.

Logan took a deep breath, wondering if he would ever look back and remember this moment, regretting the words he spoke next.

"I'll think about it."

* * *

 **February 24, 2016**

Rory bit her lip as she finished the cursive "y," delicately lifting the tube up, grateful she managed to complete the lettering without any mistakes. Rory set the frosting tube next to the sink and studied the cake she made once more; she found it acceptable and it would do just fine for the occasion. She never really considered herself artistic, unless you counted funky designs on her nails and her aptitude for creative writing. Lorelai always joked she never needed Rory's school artwork, choosing instead to put her report cards on the fridge.

Rory glanced around the kitchen and dining room, making sure everything was ready for the evening. Food was set out; the wine was chilled, plates and silverware in their expected places. There were no streamers or party balloons – she felt it would be too much for the occasion. But it looked nice all the same. She blew her bangs out of her face as she moved to the oven. The appliance told her it was after eight. Where was he? He phoned her earlier, mentioning he'd be home later than usual but not too late. Some crisis at work that needed fixing.

He knew what day it was, right?

He left for work unusually early that morning, gently brushing his lips on her forehead. Too groggy to open her eyes, she only muttered out a goodbye as his palm swept away her hair. When she arose several hours later, she realized she missed her chance to wish him a good day, perhaps surprise him with a coffee and muffin breakfast. She stared at her phone as she sipped her morning coffee, contemplating if she should send a text. A text of what though? Emoji balloons, cakes, and streamers seemed too ridiculous and impersonal. That's what people did who were casual acquaintances who maybe wouldn't spend the day together. No, she'd just have to wish him well that evening.

Logan filled her thoughts as she prepared for her lunchtime meeting with Naomi. Rory tried to concentrate as the woman spoke, but her thoughts kept shifting to Logan as the woman spoke tangential nonsense. Oh well, she'd just have to piece together her notes from the dictaphone recording later. If Naomi noticed her lack of attention, she never commented.

It was strange. Since her return, Logan was back to his enigmatic self once again. He was oddly introspective and quiet after their separate sojourns back in the States. She wondered at first if something had happened with his family. She knew he wouldn't tell her anyway. But she did find it odd, considering the date. Rory knew that prior history played some part in his attitude toward the event, but shouldn't there be some joy?

When she was planning her meetings with Naomi, she always doublechecked with him to ensure the dates would work. She quickly scheduled for the latter half of this month during her first trip here, this time selfishly making plans first without asking. She apologized for the mistake when she brought it up before they parted, and he just told it that it was okay, that she wasn't overstepping at all. If he had any plans, he never bothered to mention them.

As she looked at her calendar earlier this week, she cursed as she stared at the date. Logan was incredibly helpful through all of this – if he did have something planned, she could see him breaking it off so she could work on her book. So she asked him again carefully as they lounged together one evening, decompressing from the day. He gave her a funny look and replied no with that infuriating smirk of his. "You know how I like to live in the moment," he said as he stroked her ankle, muddling her mind. "If something comes up, I'll tell you. I promise," he ended before tickling her foot, beginning a whole different type of conversation.

But nothing had come up, or at least he never said anything. Rory was pretty sure his parents didn't call today (they never called anyway). Nor did they bother to send a card and she knew that Honor did. But the guys – where were they? Didn't they live for celebrations such as these? If anyone would come though, wouldn't it be Finn? She knew from her talks with Carolina that the man had ample free time, and Logan said that he had a knack for showing up out of the blue. Maybe Finn knew she was here and that was why he was avoiding Logan. She doubted Logan would tell him but based on their earlier meeting last month, Finn could probably surmise her visit after talking with Caro. She felt nauseous, worried that her relationship with Logan was hurting other parts of his life. She was intruding enough as it was. She wouldn't let him sacrifice himself like this.

So as Naomi polished off her fourth lunch martini, Rory reached a decision. She was going to follow Logan's perspective. She would make him live in the moment. She checked the time at the end of her meeting – just after one - plenty of time to rush back to his home to drop off her notes. While she was there, she found a lovely recipe for a cake and frosting online (or icing as they called it here) then marched herself on down to Waitrose. This was something she could do! She had practice (well, a bit), though she'd hardly call herself an expert. She knew from previous perusals that he had a fully stocked kitchen (did he even use any of this stuff? If he didn't, who did? She didn't want to know), easily letting her get everything prepared for tonight.

Now here she was, tapping her fingers against the granite, his favorite meal from the neighborhood restaurant on the table and a somewhat edible cake with a satisfactory icing job sitting next to her. She bit her lip in nervousness at the white icing with navy blue lettering. It was bulldog blue - his favorite color – comprising a large part of his wardrobe. For someone who blew off school as much as he used to do, he always seemed to wear as many Yale colors as possible, especially around their old apartment in New Haven. She used to joke that he was a stock photo from the prospective student guidebook as he wandered around his apartment on a lazy afternoon. He would smirk and just reply, "look who's talking," Rory blushing as his eyes would travel her frame.

Anyway, he loved navy bulldog blue.

She sighed, figuring she might as well start cleaning up the kitchen. She was hoping she could surprise him, be downstairs for the grand reveal. Maybe she should have called, just to double-check his arrival time. He wouldn't have gone out for drinks without telling her, at least she didn't think he would. However, he would if was with people from work. Technically she shouldn't even be here. They'd ask too many questions about who she was, and where the other girl was that evening. Yes, it would just have to be the two of them, in secret as always. That's what this was right? This is what she signed up for months ago.

She dried her hands on the towel and leaned against the counter. Oh well, she tried at least. Taking a final sip of wine, she adjusted plates and the cake on the counter. She could watch TV and maybe get some writing done. She paused at the landing before heading upstairs. Their dinner was still out on display. She needed to put the food away before it spoiled. She made her way back to the kitchen to search through the cabinets, looking for some plastic wrap or covers for the dishes.

The lock rattled as Rory looked back at the front door, listening as a key was inserted into the lock. Logan walked into the entryway head down, his hair damp from the evening mist. He set his briefcase against the wall, shrugging off his heavy pea coat and hanging it on the wall hook. He finally turned, noticing Rory who was standing shell-shocked in the kitchen at his arrival.

"Hi."

"You're here!" she exclaimed, smiling nervously.

"Meeting ran late." He wasn't smiling. He stepped forward into the kitchen, glancing at the scene before him.

She followed his gaze, shuffling her feet. "I didn't know if you wanted to go out or what but I didn't hear from you, so I got some Italian from that place we like," she started quickly as his focus turned toward the dining table.

He walked in further to stand next to the counter, glancing down at her hand on the surface next to the small cake. It looked so pathetic now that she really studied it. The lettering was messy and she had crumbs in the frosting. "Um, I made you this little cake, trying to follow this Jaime Oliver recipe. Paris has been trying to get me to cook for myself more. I know; it sounds ridiculous. And then I had all this time after my meeting, and I couldn't just sit around. There should be enough sugar in there to mask anything awful." She was rambling. If he was shocked about the cake, he didn't give anything away. She didn't know what he was thinking.

He stayed silent, glancing around the kitchen once again. She suddenly felt incredibly foolish. What a ridiculous idea. What was she thinking putting this together? Holidays, birthdays - this wasn't her responsibility anymore. That was left to people who had something.

They weren't anything.

She wrung her hands as she stared at his face, still focusing on the room. "I know we didn't really talk about what to do, but it's your birthday," she added quietly. "You only turn 34 once. And you know me, I'm a Gilmore. I just can't ignore a birthday."

At the mention of his birthday, he stared back at her and searched her eyes. She realized he was much closer than she thought. She was such an idiot. She should have started with a happy birthday greeting when he walked in, instead of babbling about food.

"Well, I know it's nothing much but…" she began, but he cut her off with a gentle kiss.

His head drew slowly back and she met his glance. He was smiling, a sparkle in his eyes. He reached out with one hand, gently laying it on her hip. Her breath caught at his deep stare.

His hand on her hip tightened and he leaned back in, kissing her harder this time. Rory moaned lightly as the kiss deepened. She brought her hands up, cradling his face, feeling the stubble from a day of work.

Tongues danced and teeth nipped as their embrace grew tighter. He gripped her hips, suddenly picking her up to set on her on the counter. She yelped slightly into his mouth then giggled as he stepped in between her legs, allowing his body closer.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asked after they broke apart to breathe.

Rory crooked her brow. "Right now? It's after eight." She smirked but paused at the seriousness in his expression.

"No, not now." He shook his head. "Later," he muttered and leaned back in to capture her lips.

He kissed her deeply, the intensity leaving her breathless. "Where?" she asked when they broke apart again.

"Anywhere. Leave tomorrow."

His head angled down, but she grasped the side of his face to stop him. "I have to meet Naomi in the morning," she said, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"So?" he shrugged. "We'll leave after. Go away for the weekend."

"What's gotten into you?"

"I realized it's my birthday and I want to celebrate. And I want you to come with me." He kissed her again, breaking her reply. His lips moved down her neck, pressing kisses along her pulse point. She found it difficult to concentrate to form a response, what with his lips on her neck and his hands caressing her sides.

"Please," he murmured against her neck.

Rory leaned her head slightly against his. "Let's go," she whispered in his ear when she gathered the strength to reply.

His lips paused. He lifted his head, standing straight to look at her eagerly. "Really?"

She grinned. "Yeah."

He smiled brightly, leaning down to give her a hard kiss. She reached back up, running her hands through his hair. He broke away quickly, leaving her sitting on the edge of the counter, wanting more.

He stepped away, walking toward the dining table. He turned back to her with a grin and asked, "Now, I believe you said you had Italian?"

* * *

 **AN:** This is the last rewritten chapter. From here on out it is all new. However, I am going on vacation next weekend so I plan to sip Margaritas on a beach instead of posting the next chapter. I will be posting it right after I get back home though! Meanwhile, I'd love to hear from you if you can spare the time!

I will also be posting a major-status update in my next author's note. So I hope to see you next time for Chapter 12: Scars.


	12. Scars

**AN:** Thank you for the reviews, follows and favorites. Also thanks to **RBraquel** for her help looking through my rough drafts.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

 **Chapter 12: Scars**

New Haven, Connecticut – April 2006

Rory Gilmore was an industrious student.

Of course, anyone who knew the girl knew how much she loved school. She fed off the busyness, thrived from the rush of completing her assignments. And everyone knew not to disturb her when she was on a deadline, especially when preparing herself for the week all students feared, yet she strangely enjoyed – finals.

The pens (blue, black and red) lay flat on the table. Joining them were five highlighters, displayed in the color of the rainbow. Books and notebooks stacked in piles according to subject. And off to the side, certain lines crossed off, lay a list, detailing her study schedule for the day.

All in all, the scene was primed for Rory to accomplish a full day of coursework.

If only that were true. Fate had other plans.

Rory tried to focus on her work, but a distraction in the form of her boyfriend kept pulling her attention away from her reading. She had so much to catch up on since her break from Yale – plus her constant work as _Daily News_ editor – that she couldn't afford to lose valuable study time. However, her boyfriend's decision to jump off a cliff was a distraction she just couldn't ignore.

After practically snubbing Logan as he said goodbye that day weeks ago, she was distraught to discover that his broken body had been transported to a hospital in New York. Horrible thoughts raced through her head as she drove to the city. Would he wake up? How injured was he? Would his injuries affect him the rest of his life? Her anger forgotten, she was filled with only worry as she gazed at his form on the bed. The relief came later after he woke (also following an informative call with Paris), and Rory couldn't help but grin as his personality came back, bit by bit. Now he was home and safe, and since their frank heart to heart, their relationship was stronger than before.

Rory huffed as she returned to her book, watching Logan hobble around the apartment from the corner of her eye. She knew Logan was bored – he wanted to get up and do something with all the energy that he was regaining. He was stronger, sure, but he was still weak on his bad leg, putting weight on his cane as he limped to and fro. Logan may have been known as a bit of a layabout, but the term really only applied to school and work; the boy still had a zest for life that could not be confined to a studio apartment. She supposed this may have been the first time he was told to rest and take it easy in all aspects of his life, and he wasn't following orders very well.

Rory glanced up again and rolled her eyes as Logan carried cleaner and a paper towel roll in one hand. He had taken up chores during his mandatory rest, a new hobby she had discovered when she had come home from classes one day and found him scrubbing the kitchen sink. Now the apartment was always clean, shockingly so, and despite Rory's vexation, he seemed to have no plans to stop anytime soon.

A muffled curse echoed through the apartment, and Rory caught Logan bending down awkwardly to pick up the dropped paper towel roll. He gave out a brief grunt of discomfort as he straightened himself up, then continued on his way to their bathroom.

"Logan, why don't you sit down? The apartment is cleaner than your Porsche after you get it detailed," she suggested with a forced smile, patting the cushion next to her.

Logan turned around, shooting her a smirk as he leaned against the cane. "But I'm doing so well! The physical therapist said I was doing better than expected."

Rory closed her book and threw it on the coffee table, figuring study time was over for now. "Please," she begged, fixing her blue eyes in a pleading look she knew he couldn't resist. "I just don't want you to overdo it. The last thing we need is for you to fall and mess up all your progress."

Logan's eyes widened in alarm. "I have to get up and move!" he whined.

Okay, perhaps the pleading look didn't work this time. "It's either me or I sic Paris on you again. Your choice," she shrugged, giving him an ultimatum she knew he couldn't – and wouldn't - refuse.

Logan chuckled, not believing her words. Truthfully, Rory was bluffing, but she kept her face straight. Rory was barely able to force Paris and Doyle out of the apartment last time, plus the two tended to go through Rory and Logan's things. Paris meant well, but she could be overwhelming, especially to someone on bedrest. "You know, you worry too much," he argued.

"And I have a right to! I don't want you to get hurt anymore. You're injured enough." Rory lifted herself off the couch and joined her boyfriend, grabbing the items out of his arms. "You don't need any more scars," she said, her eyes flicking to a healed but pink cut on his cheek. "You've got too many cuts on your face as it is."

Rory walked to the kitchen and opened a cabinet, stuffing the cleaning items inside. "They're just shallow cuts. Makes me look like a warrior." Logan followed her, albeit slowly, taking a rest against the counter. "You know, Han Solo had scars and it made him ruggedly handsome. Are you implying that now I'm not ruggedly handsome?" he asked to her back.

Sighing, she turned around to face him, his mouth crooked in a mischievous smirk. "Last I checked, you weren't saving the galaxy from the evil empire or flying the Millennium Falcon."

He gasped, his mouth widened in mock indignation. "I'm hurt. You don't think I'm handsome."

Rory frowned and crossed her arms, leaning against the counter opposite him. "You really like to put words into my mouth, don't you?"

"Gotta keep this scruff, take you flying, really seduce you. I shot paintballs back when I was wooing you, maybe I need to get myself a blaster."

Rory reached into the refrigerator, grabbing a soda for Logan and herself. "If you must know, I called you beautiful to my mom. How's that for your ego, hotshot?"

Logan's eyes bulged with mirth. "Beautiful? I'm blushing. You're right then, I don't need any more scars. I must be flawless," he remarked.

"Oh geez," she muttered, lightly holding his arm to guide him back into the living room.

"Where's that face lotion you use? Have to make sure I get this all nice and smooth."

"Come on. Let's watch tv." Rory guided him onto the sofa, helping him sit down before joining him. She powered on the box, searching for a comedy rerun they could watch to pass the time. He leaned into her, her arm thrown around his shoulder as they found a way to cuddle together without causing him pain. Rory's eyes flicked to her books and she was reminded of the work she had left to complete, but it would have to wait. With Logan in her arms, she could get him to rest and enjoy the time he was idle. She wouldn't have to worry if he would fall on his quest to clean every surface of their place. She told herself it was only for his benefit, but it was also for her. His presence reminded her that he was safe, he was recovering, and they were together.

Rory ran her palm through his hair, brushing it absentmindedly as the program continued and the laugh track played. Logan had moved to recline in her arms and his breathing had deepened, finally relaxing to a point Rory approved. Every so often her gaze would flick down to his head, her eyes fixing on the pink line on his cheek. Her hand reached up to trace the imperfection lightly. Logan didn't flinch, as Rory had repeated the motion often enough, but his eyes followed her fingers as they brushed across his skin. "You know, I like your scar. I don't like how you got it, but I like what it means."

Logan moved his head slightly, looking at her with a curious frown. "I'm lost."

"That came out all wrong." Rory bit her lip as she caught the briefest flash of a wince when he moved slightly to face her. "Of course, I don't like that you got hurt or that you have a scar now." Logan's eyes widened, pressing her to continue. "You did something stupid. Really, really stupid." She stopped, remembering her anger when the boys stood in the dining room and planned their dangerous journey. Rory wished she was clearer in her disapproval and she knew she shouldered some of the blame, her passive-aggressive behavior pushing Logan to further extremes. "And I hate what you made me feel that day when I got the call. I hated being so angry and so scared. But it shows you aren't perfect. That you make mistakes. And you learn from them."

"Ace?"

"You apologized, you didn't try to blow it off. You wanted to address the issue. I was the one that kept trying to push it off." Rory often wondered these last few weeks, if she had tried to stop and listen when he spoke, maybe he wouldn't be here right now, in pain. But Logan was anything but persistent, and perhaps that's what the scar signified to her, that the apology in the hospital was a new beginning for them, and the scar a reminder of what they had to overcome.

"Rory, about the bridesmaids –"

Rory shook her head. This was the time for her apology, not his. "Logan -"

"No, I was an ass. And I behaved badly. But the worst thing I did by far, was not telling you about it when we got back together. All I did was cause you further hurt."

"Logan, I've moved past it." If only she could turn back time to that disastrous meetup with Jess, she wouldn't have let them fall out of communication. "We both made mistakes during those months not talking to each other. We're talking through our problems now, we're not letting things stew. We know what not to do."

Logan shot her a wry smile. "Like jump off a cliff?"

"Or ignore each other," she replied quietly, making a promise to herself. She supposed this is what it meant to be an adult. For too long she'd avoided her problems, leading to rifts in her family and with boyfriends. But Logan was different; he was direct and faced things head-on. She'd take her cue from him. She wanted to make this relationship work. It was worth it.

Logan rested his head back down, giving a small sigh as his head moved from the awkward position of looking up at her. Rory ran her hand again through his hair, his eyes falling shut from the light caress. "What I've loved about dating you is that I see all of you. The parts that aren't perfect, those parts that other people don't get to see, no matter how frustrating you can sometimes be. And I love all your flaws." Her fingertip ran down his angular nose, before her hand came to rest upon his chest. "I used to think it would be scary," she mused.

"Scary how?" he muttered, his brows creasing in confusion.

"To know so much about someone, to love all their imperfections."

"That's why I love you," he said quickly, surprising her.

"Really?"

Logan opened his eyes, leaning his head back to give her a crinkly grin. "You're not perfect, even if you try to be in everything you do. You let me see that side of you, the imperfect side. But you always try to put your best foot forward, even if you falter sometimes trying to get there."

Rory frowned. "I just want to succeed."

"And you will, I have faith." Logan shifted and grunted, using his arms to lift himself into a sitting position next to her. "But I could do with you being a little less testy in the mornings when I know you're stressed. I even love this pimple on your forehead, if it is a little too bright red."

"What?" Rory exclaimed, her fingers flying to her forehead.

"No don't!" Logan reached up, bringing her fingers away. "See, perfect," he murmured, his eyes flicking quickly to her skin before giving her a small smile.

She reached up again, running her fingers over the small bump. It hurt slightly when she pressed it, guaranteed to be prominent soon. "Oh no, it will be obvious tomorrow."

Logan huffed an exasperated sigh, though it was tinged with humor. Rory turned her focus back to the running show, Logan following her lead.

Several minutes passed and he shifted on the cushion, turning his body more toward her. "Where are your scars?"

Rory hummed absentmindedly, her concentration still on the screen.

"You don't have any on your face," he added matter-of-factly, his eyes trailing over her skin. "Now, in my mind you are perfect, but I know that's not reality. Where are your scars?" he asked again, leaning over to bump her shoulder with his own.

"This is silly," she muttered, flicking her eyes to him quickly before settling them on the screen.

"Come on, show me." Logan bumped her shoulder again, egging her on.

"I'm not going to show you all my scars."

"Come on," he pleaded, reaching out and pinching her leg. Rory jumped, yelping as she gave him a cross look. Logan looked apologetic, but there was the teasing glint his eyes.

Knowing he'd probably not leave well enough alone, Rory went through a mental catalogue of her past injuries. "Well, I have one on my elbow when I fell during a school performance." Rory lifted her arm, fanning her elbow to her side

"Mhm." Logan lightly grasped her arm, his fingers searching for a tell-tale bump.

"And I have a larger one on my right knee when I was running around the inn and wasn't looking where I was going. Tripped on an ornate table leg. It really hurt."

"Anywhere else?

"I'm sure I have some on my hand because of all the papercuts… hey, what are you doing?" Rory paused, glancing at her boyfriend.

Logan stopped his movement, sheepishly meeting her eyes, "I'm looking for the scar on your knee." He was leaned over, his one hand paused from where it was moving her pant leg, the other hovering around her knee.

"Do you really have to see it?" she replied, laughing at his face.

"Of course. I want to study all your flaws." His eyes faced down again, squinting as the knee was revealed and he searched for the patch of skin.

"What?" she breathed out, shivering slightly as he found the small bump, his forefinger tracing its outline.

"See? Even though it's a blemish, it's perfect," he said quietly, looking up again to meet her eyes.

"Sometimes you're just too ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love," he rebutted with a grin.

"Hey, please don't hurt yourself," Rory chided as he sat up, straightening his body over hers.

"No pain, no gain," he quipped. She caught a glimpse his playful smirk before his lips descended over hers, all conversations about scars lost.

* * *

February 26, 2016

"You think you have enough pictures now?"

Rory lowered her phone, rolling her eyes at the quip. She turned around, focusing on the teasing man behind her. Logan stood just ten feet away, his hands holding their coffees. He looked beautiful, she thought, his stylish form against the city backdrop, his cheeks pink from the cold. "I just want to remember it all." She raised her phone and snapped a quick photo, determined to keep a memento of him from their time here. "You should smile more. Look at where we are! You should be taking pictures too! This is an amazing feat of engineering," she said, spinning around with her arms raised, stopping so the Colosseum was behind her once more.

Logan shrugged. "It looks like all the other times I've been here." He took a sip from one of the cups, his eyes pensive as he studied the scenery. To an outsider his comment would be seen as spoiled and privileged, shoving his wealth in their faces. Rory knew better – Logan was well-aware of his privilege, and the comment was only meant to be a simple matter of fact. He walked closer, a frown upon his face. "I thought you said you've been before."

Rory nodded, taking her cup from his other hand. "Yeah, once with my mom for our post-graduation European backpacking tour. Then there was a second time with my grandma, but that was weird. It was during my grandparents' argument. She was escaping her marriage and dragged me along. I went willingly, as it wasn't like I was going to pass up the opportunity." Well, it was mostly true. She decided to leave out the fight she had with her mother, it was just a memory of a shameful period of her life. She followed his gaze, watching the locals chat on their phones as they made their way home. "I do like it better now though. Fewer tourists."

"I agree. But my favorite time is Christmas. It's busy, but the city is so decorated. It's beautiful."

"You've been here at Christmas?" she asked surprised.

"When I was young, when my grandmother was still alive – dad's mother that is, she used to take Honor and me over here a lot. We went to Switzerland, France, Spain - she wanted Honor and me to be well-rounded. She also knew our mother was not as," he trailed off, his brows furrowing as he searched for his words.

"Keen?" Rory suggested.

"Yes. Well, my grandmother certainly made no hesitations about Shira's past. Anyway, with my dad and grandfather always working, she would ferry us around. She'd take us to museums, make sure we got the time to be kids. Mom would sometimes come too, but she mostly came for the shopping." He touched her elbow lightly, and the two began walking away from the landmark and closer to the shops.

"It sounds like she was amazing," she said softly, trying to remember if he had mentioned his grandmother before. Despite knowing each other for so long, even living together, Rory was always shocked to learn that they had so much to discover about the other.

"She was." He cleared his throat, taking a slight pause before he continued. "I wish I knew her better before she passed. Some of the best times I had were with her and Honor, spending our summers and holiday breaks over here. The family was better then. Happier."

Rory eyed him as they strolled, noting the sadness shadowing his features.

"She died when I was young. It was quick – cancer. Honor took it very hard. I think I was still too young to fully understand, to grasp the enormity of the situation." Logan's voice grew quieter. "Grandfather became surlier after she died. It may surprise you, but he was much happier when they were together, more amiable."

"Really?" Rory said, remembering how the old man huffed and growled out commands during that disastrous dinner.

"He used to like me more, too, before I became... corrupted." Logan stopped walking. He was smiling again, but the shadows of sadness remained. "I became a bit too wild for his tastes, moving away from what the elders had envisioned for me," he ended sarcastically.

Rory ran through memories, searching for a similar story to his and finding none. As much as she loved her childhood after all Lorelai had sacrificed, Rory knew there were parts missing, most involving family members who were never around. "I never had that."

"Had what?"

"That relationship with my grandparents like the one you had with your grandmother. I mean I did, just not until I was sixteen. Grandma would have been hard to get along with since she clashed so much with mom. But grandpa? I would have loved to travel with him, especially when I was younger. I'll always regret we didn't have that opportunity." Rory shivered, suddenly noticing the chill in the air.

"You two shared many of the same interests." Logan grasped her coat over her elbow, rubbing his hands over the fabric in a comforting gesture.

"It's the stupid things I miss. Ever since he discovered the internet, he was so good about sending me emails about my writing. And we talked almost every week about our travels. I still have to stop myself, my first reaction is to tell him where I'm traveling next."

"That feeling will always be there. There will always be that hole. But it gets better," he said, his voice low and sympathetic. Rory longed to lean into him, to have him hold her close and share his warmth. But she resisted and ignoring his stare, she turned back to face the cityscape.

Rory's thoughts briefly returned to her grandmother, remembering the woman's behavior only weeks ago. She was managing to get along after Richard's death. Emily was adapting, learning to be alone, but she was still living her best life, despite the sadness. Rory admired her bravery. It was then Rory decided that she wasn't going to let this time pass her by. She wasn't going to linger on past mistakes. She was going to make the time count – spend time with those she loved, and make sure she told them how much they meant to her.

Her mother, grandma, Luke, Lane, Paris. All these people who meant so much to her, made her into who she was. She wasn't going to let them down.

"Hey, you want to get dinner now?" Logan asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Rory nodded her head, meeting his eyes and his curious glance. "Sounds great," Rory said, determined to leave her funk and enjoy the rest of the evening.

Logan threw his spent coffee cup in a nearby bin then held out his hand, a welcoming smile on his lips. Rory's face brightened as her skin touched his. He tangled his fingers with hers, bringing her body closer to his.

Rory glanced at his profile, noting his soft smile as he led her through the streets. His skin was soft and warm, just like she remembered all those years ago. She was glad she was here with him, this impromptu celebration for his birthday. He deserved the holiday, to take a break from all the stress of work. She just hoped he enjoyed her company, because she wouldn't trade this moment for the world.

* * *

October 2013

People crowded around the tables, laughing as they joked with each other. The jazz music played brightly throughout the hall, the drinks flowed freely, the decorations sparkled under the lights. Another media banquet night, opulent and festive, ignorant to the turbulence in the industry swirling outside the ballroom doors.

A brunette threw her clutch on a table, sliding into a chair and taking a long sip from the champagne flute. She gazed out among the party with disinterest, before tapping her fingers against the gold tabletop. "How long do you insist on sitting here?" she asked to the blond on her right.

"I'm just trying to get any and all ideas down."

She frowned as he wrote furious, cramped notes on a folded envelope. "That couldn't possibly be helpful."

"I'm exploring all avenues."

She sighed, placing her now-empty flute on the table. "Well, were you planning to ignore me all night?"

"You looked like you were having fun all on your own." He sat back and met her green eyes, stuffing the paper and pen in his breast pocket. "Fine, I'm done for the evening."

The woman looked at him sadly. "Logan, I know you're trying to forget you are here, but please don't forget I'm on your side."

"I know."

"People are asking about you."

"Well, come on," he said, standing and holding out his hand. "Let's make the rounds, shall we?"

Logan and the woman introduced themselves to the other partygoers, making casual small talk when necessary. She was right; the night went faster if one made an attempt to have fun. A boisterous group at the side caught his attention, and Logan spied his father as one of the members. Knowing he'd have to include himself sooner or later, he made his way to the group. However he spotted a familiar figure and he paused, his body stiffening as the man recognized him.

"Well, Logan Huntzberger! It has been too long."

The man's mouth curved in a slight smirk, his leathery skin crinkling his eyes. He looked more like a snake than ever, his eyes red underneath the lights. "Hello, Mr. Simon."

"Oh, please," he waved off casually with his hand. "We're friendly acquaintances now. Frank, please."

Never would Logan consider this man in friendly terms. "Of course. My mistake."

"I had heard that you had managed to make it back to the family company after you left California. Your father was telling me what an asset you'd become."

"Oh really?" Logan asked, glancing at his father. "He knows I try to do my best. To factor in all I had learned."

"Yes, yes," Simon said nodding. "Well, I do appreciate all the work you did with one of my companies. New media for the new age! Great ideas, this one!" he exclaimed to the others around them.

Logan growled under his breath. Interesting how this man saw things differently all those years ago in that Silicon Valley boardroom. "Thank you, it means a lot coming from someone of your background."

"Now, now, I was remiss to hear you've been having some issues of your own," he said with insincere sympathy.

"It's hard, as you know Frank," commented his father from the side. "Print media just isn't what it was."

"True, true. We all have to adapt. Some are just better than others." Simon turned back to Logan, looking him up and down. "Well, we can't all be as successful as me. Best of luck, Logan," he ended, leaving the group with his young wife on his arm.

"What an odious man," Logan's companion muttered.

Frustrated, Logan left his father and the group, walking quickly to a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Grabbing two glasses off the platter, he downed the first quickly and he was on his second when his female companion joined his side.

"Logan, please slow down," she pleaded, her green eyes filled with worry.

"God, I hate that man." He finished his second drink and placed it on the table. He breathed deeply, trying to calm his heart.

"Please don't let him get to you."

Logan grit his teeth, watching Simon mingle among the guests.

"Logan –"

"Leave it, Odette."

Odette huffed, grabbing his hand and leading him to the side, away from curious ears.

"Logan, I know you're worried about the closing newspapers."

He sighed, his heart heavy. "It's just so many people, so many families, and it's not like the economy is helping."

Odette grabbed his hand. "You can't save everyone, Logan. Some things will always be beyond your control."

"But I can fix it for the future." Logan paused, trying to calm himself. "The asshole is right," he grumbled. "New media is where it's going to be. We have to get more of our people online. We need direct communication with the people to expand our brands. My dad lacks vision. I keep stressing how important it is to move forward, to not get stuck in the past. The old ways are dead."

"Please don't take what Simon seriously," she replied sadly. "Remember that you know why he does it."

"Maybe my dad was right," he said softly. "I take things too personally. It's my flaw."

Odette smiled, placing her hand upon his cheek. "It's not a flaw. It means you care. Your father is wrong; it's a good thing."

"Thank you," he said gratefully.

"You'll see," she said smiling. "Someday this work will pay off."

* * *

February 27, 2016

Rory sat against the headboard, holding the book Logan gave her for Christmas. It was late; Logan had fallen asleep several hours before after they returned to their hotel, but Rory couldn't manage to settle. Her constant flying through different time zones left her struggling to adapt to normal sleep schedules. Giving up almost an hour ago, Rory retrieved the book from her travel bag, thankful she had brought the small book light with her.

Rory held back a giggle as she read Logan's most recent, detailed adventure. His book read like a travel diary, something one would find in a blog. His writing was witty but it was also poignant, offering a view of the world many wouldn't see. It was odd for her to think that Logan lived this entire separate life so unknown to her in the years they were apart. However it was silly of her to believe she had the right to know his whereabouts, given she turned him down. But it didn't mean she wouldn't wonder where he was, what he was doing, and if he was happy, usually on lonely nights she shared with just a bottle of wine.

Rory's eyes widened as she read the last page of the chapter. An injury, just mentioned briefly, had set him back several days as his stitches healed. Surprised, Rory reread the passage, noting the location of the wound. It was painful from the sound of it and sure to leave a mark. Had Rory completely overlooked it? She had seen his naked skin plenty. Rory glanced curiously at the sleeping man beside her. Determined, she closed the book, set it on the table then turned on the bedside lamp.

The room grew brighter, illuminating his skin. Rory watched him. He didn't wake.

Rory carefully turned on the bed, making sure the mattress barely moved. Bringing the sheet lower down his chest, Rory studied his stomach, trying to find the line of imperfect skin along his abdominals. A cursory glance gave Rory no hints, so she slowly brought up her hand, her fingers ghosting his skin. Still nothing. How odd. Would he lie about an injury for a book?

Logan grunted. Rory's hand paused as she watched his face, hoping she hadn't woken him. After several moments passed she believed him to still be asleep, and she went back to her inspection of his skin. Suddenly, his hand grabbed hers, holding it tightly against his stomach. She bit her lips sheepishly as she saw his squinting eyes, and he frowned as he glanced at their joined hands. "What are you doing?" he asked, ending his sentence with a small yawn.

"I'm just checking."

He cocked his head on the pillow, confusion in his brow.

"You really got injured by a monkey?" Rory added in disbelief, trying to hold back her laughter.

Logan's eyes widened in realization. "I thought I was safe in the sanctuary helping the caretakers. I was wrong. Not one of my proudest moments," he muttered in embarrassment. Logan yawned again and moved her hand, placing her finger on a rough patch near his belly button. "Right here."

Rory moved her fingers over the very slight line of scarred skin. "What did you do to make him angry?"

He shrugged. "I think I have some bad luck with nature. Something always befalls me. Boat sinks, parachute doesn't open," he trailed off.

"You break a finger chasing cheese down a hill," Rory added in a mutter. "You always were a little on the wild side when it came to your adventures."

"I wanted to have fun," he said defensively.

Rory jabbed his stomach playfully. "Well, sometimes extreme fun comes with a price."

"I know. I've toned it down. I still ski, white water raft, hang glide and such." Rory's breath caught as she imagined him hanging from a small glider. "But I'm always sure to follow all precautions and wear my safety gear," Logan added when he caught her fearful look.

Rory nodded. "Good."

Logan yawned loudly, raising his arms over his head and stretching his body, before folding his arms underneath his head. Perhaps it was part of Rory's inquisitive nature, but she was more aware of his skin tonight than before, so her eyes immediately flew to the new area of exposed skin under the bright light. On his side, right along his rib cage, was an oddly precise scar, one Rory did not immediately remember.

"What happened here?" she asked, moving her fingers to the spot.

Logan cleared his throat. "Oh, that. That's from when they had to drain my lung, or so I was told." Rory didn't comment, but her fingers remained on the bump. "You know, from when I took that trip – "

"I remember. I just had forgotten some of the details," Rory interrupted quickly. Her eyes flew to his face. She ignored his stare at first, instead focusing on the slight scar on his cheek, faded with time. Most would miss the mark, but Rory would always know it was there. She just preferred to forget.

Forget the fear, forget the pain, forget that spring years ago. It was easier that way.

"Well, I'm all healed now," Logan said brightly. "Now, I might need a knee replacement in my future, but I have all my limbs. It's all we can ask for, can't we?" He yawned once more, cocking his head to the lamp. "Hey, are you going to go to sleep? Cause that light – "

Rory shook her head, moving her mind away from the past. "Yeah." She reached over and turned off the light before shifting her body close to his. Logan moved his arms from behind his head, welcoming Rory to lie against his chest. She closed her eyes, trying to focus her breathing and his scent. But flashes from the hospital years ago remained in the background, leading her to an uneasy sleep.

* * *

January 2008

Rory rested her head against the cool glass, staring out at the countryside the bus passed by. Every few minutes she had to reach up and clear the window; her breath fogged it up, obstructing her view of the barren fields ready for a fresh coating of winter's snow. Months from now they would all be filled with green, row upon row of corn, the stalks reaching high into the sky.

" _Rory, it sounds so exciting. Your grandmother and I hope you enjoy this period of travel. You're a witness to the patriotic process, reporting on democracy from the front lines. Even more, you're seeing parts of the country most never see!"_

Her grandfather seemed to think the campaign trail was more exciting than it was. Sure it had its moments, but Rory missed sleeping in sheets that didn't smell, coffee that didn't suck, and diner food that wasn't abysmally lower than subpar. And there were long periods of boredom, primarily as it was just small town halls at this point, no working in cities for her. Never would she have thought she'd be in Iowa of all places at this point in her life. She was meant to be overseas, exploring the world, seeing places she'd never seen before – not farms in the Midwest.

 _Small steps_ , Rory reminded herself. Only a slight detour, but she was gaining experience. To take what she could out of this.

"Ow!" Rory muttered quietly, reaching to her lap to steady the computer sitting precariously upon her thighs. The bus must have hit a pothole, the resounding bump causing her head to thud against the glass. She felt her temple, no possibility for bruising. She straightened, awakening the laptop from sleep mode. The barren document appeared, the cursor blinking ominously on the screen.

Right, her article. Her very important article. Rory had to finish this before sending it off to the editor tonight. She could do it; she was an all-star when it came to deadlines. She flourished under pressure. Give her something to do with almost impossible restraints, and Rory would complete her task with time to spare.

The cursor kept blinking, mocking her.

Rory reminded herself again that she had what it took. She could do this. Alright, any other day she could do this. If only her editor hadn't called her last night, critiquing her latest submission. Too bland, too every day, he said. She needed to go on the offensive. No more flag football, it was time for full contact.

Obviously, the man didn't know her history in gym class.

Now here Rory sat, only 63 words on the counter. Maybe she couldn't do this. It was still dull, still unimaginative. She huffed and banged her head back against the headrest.

But she wasn't a quitter. She straightened her posture, fingers moving into position, ready to fly over the keys.

 _You must be ruthless in this business, Rory._

Ruthless? Ha! She could already envision Paris rolling her eyes. _"Rory is the lamb in front of the wolf, asking why he looks so mean before he jumps for her throat."_

"Hey," a male voice called from her side, breaking her from her musings. She glanced up quickly at the brown-haired man, and ignoring his kind smile, she focused back on her blank screen.

"Hey," Rory replied in a mutter, biting her lip as her right hand hovered over the keypad.

"Still writing? I've been done for ages." The man slid into the free seat on her right, sliding his feet into the aisle. "Got writer's block?" he asked, bumping her shoulder.

"No," Rory replied defensively. "Just," she paused, searching for an adequate word, "internal debate."

"You know, in some circles we call that writer's block."

Rory sighed in annoyance. "Adam, if I had no words, we could call it that. But that isn't the problem. I have plenty of words. The problem is that nothing sounds good enough. My words sound hollow."

"From you? Unbelievable."

"Well, believe it, mister."

Adam settled more comfortably into his seat, crossing his arms as he regarded her curiously. "You know, I think I have some whiskey in my bag if you'd like to take a sip."

"Why on earth do you think I'd want whiskey now?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. It always seems to help me break the block, although I tend to take quite a few sips."

"I can't believe you're suggesting I write my article drunk."

"Hey!" he exclaimed in laughter. "Don't knock it until you try it. I've written some of my best papers drunk. The words just roll out."

"Whatever," Rory said with a smile, ignoring him and turning back to her document. Her fingers tapped against the screen, jittery as her mind searched for words. She was going to wear a hole through her bottom lip soon.

"Obama is doing very well, isn't he?" she asked aloud after a minute passed.

Adam frowned, as realization dawned. "Is that what this is? I know you love Hillary but –"

"I was told I needed to be tougher on her," she interrupted hurriedly. "My last articles have been a little too blasé. He wants something more. I just don't know what, though."

"You're a good writer, Rory. You're tough but fair," he replied encouragingly.

"I can do critique just fine. That's not the problem." Rory took a deep breath, wondering how to voice her concerns. "It's stupid."

"Try me."

"I just can't. This whole election is not going the way I – any of us - expected. Make no mistake – I want to do this, I need to do this. I am thrilled to be on the trail. But something is holding me back. It's like I don't want to critique her. I've loved her since I was small. The feminist in me wants to scream for her to win and ignore all her faults because look at what the result would be! Heck, I'm half afraid my old college roommate will track me down for saying a bad word."

"Really? She that big of a Hillary fan?"

"No, of course not," she answered with rolling eyes. "She's got med school to worry about." Rory shrugged. "I told you it was stupid. This whole election is monumental. It's history in the making. I shouldn't even be worrying about this."

"I sense there's a little more to it."

Curse Adam for sitting next to her. He was too good at reading her emotions. "You know, one of my first assignments at the _Yale Daily News_ was to review the ballet. I wrote it and my editor had a fit, told me I was soft. I tried again and succeeded, but the ballerinas tracked me down over my review. They were so angry."

Adam laughed. "Oh, I get it. I highly doubt Clinton will track you down over one article."

"It will happen in my dreams. Well, nightmares," she muttered.

"Okay, let's try this." He reached over, closing her laptop and placing it into her tote at her feet. "We're going to take a break."

"But I have a deadline!" she exclaimed, reaching for her bag.

Adam stopped her hands. "Tonight. We won't be at the hotel for hours. No use on the bus with no internet." He reached into his pocket, withdrawing his iPod, a splitter and headphones. Grabbing the headphones from her own music player on her seat, he connected the lines, handing her the earbuds. "Here. We'll sit, listen for a bit, and relax."

Adam reached his arm around her, and Rory's head fell onto his shoulder. The dulcet sounds of a Radiohead song began to play in her ear as her eyes focused on the passing fields out the window.

 _I can do this_ , she repeated, more than anything to convince herself. She had what it took, despite what some people said. They were wrong. _The New York Times_ was wrong. Huntzberger was wrong. They weren't the be all, end all of the newspaper world. She was on a presidential campaign now. Take that!

Her eyes flew briefly to the computer at her feet, hoping she could finish her article tonight.

* * *

February 28, 2016

Logan ran through the local park, feeling refreshed as the cool, moist air touched his skin. His loved his runs. It was a way to clear his mind, to remind himself of the good things.

 _Like this weekend_ , he thought, a small contented smile coming to his face.

A dooming ringtone broke through his music. Logan growled, recognizing the tune. Pausing off to the side, he slowed his breaths, gathering his wits as he answered the call. "It's Logan."

"Where the hell were you?"

Logan rolled his eyes at his father's greeting. "Out, dad. It was the weekend. You know, periods of time where people stop working?" he answered sarcastically, pacing around a nearby bench.

He heard his father heave a sigh. "Still, you have to be within reach. It doesn't mean you get to ignore your coworkers or me."

"There was nothing pressing. I read all the emails. May I remind you I'm not a child."

He heard a muffled grunt. "Anyway, I sent you several things about Simon Media. They're making moves."

"I know dad, I've heard the rumors."

"Still, we have to keep on top of this. Don't want them pulling the rug out from under us again," his father snarled.

"Like I said, dad, I've read the briefs. I'm apprised of the situation. We can discuss it more tomorrow." It was still the weekend, and Logan wanted to enjoy it, and that meant no mentions of his father.

"I'll be over at the office soon. I'm finalizing my schedule. I'll have them set up meetings."

"Swell," Logan muttered.

"Remember your uncle's party is coming up," said his father after a pause.

Logan remembered. He was already dreading it. "How could I forget?"

"It's a family thing, so Logan –"

"I'll talk to her dad," he answered quickly.

"Good, it's important she shows."

"I will check to see if she's available, dad," Logan replied angrily. "She does have a career. She's not like mom, she actually has responsibilities."

His father did not answer quickly, and there was a long pause on the line. "I hope to hear from you soon. Hopefully when you've remembered you work for a living."

Logan growled in frustration as the call ended, kicking a pebble from the path into the bushes. He walked in circles, hands on his hips, his heartbeat racing. So much for the relaxing, calming run.

He eyed the Tesco up ahead. Maybe he could find a quick meal he and Rory could have for dinner. It looked like rain anyway.

* * *

Rory sat at Logan's desktop in his living room, glancing at the emails she'd missed during their weekend away. Between the junk mail and brief messages from casual friends, a bolded name caught her eye. Her contact at Conde Nast emailed early Friday morning. Rory promised Logan that for their mini-holiday there would be no talk of work, and that included all emails. She cursed herself slightly for taking the agreement, deciding to blame her short-sightedness on the hormones and his pleading eyes. Rory clicked on the message eagerly, her thoughts scattered as she imagined what good news it could bring.

Her eyes narrowed as she read the brief but apologetic message. They were pushing back her meeting again. "Fantastic," she grumbled, typing out a quick reply, hoping her words hid her anger. Would she ever have her meeting? It seemed like outside forces kept it from happening.

Frustrated, she exited the browser and pushed the chair back from the desk. Rory walked to the doors, eyeing the clouds. Hopefully Logan would return from his run soon. It looked like rain.

Who was she kidding? It always looked like rain here.

Sighing, she ambled her way over to the couch, reaching for her carry-on bag. Rory had picked up a selection of reading material at the airport newsstand; she always had liked reading the foreign publications. She chose her recently purchased copy of _Elle_ , hoping she could review some of the French she'd learned in high school for fun.

Rory shuffled through the pages, ogling the French fashions and glancing at the French beauties the magazine lauded. The Parisian landscape in some of the celebrity pictures looked so storybook. Rory made a note to herself to find a journalism job that would take her to the city. It had been too long. Maybe she could go shopping, look beautiful too. Well, she could try. She couldn't hold a candle to those printed in the pages.

Rory's fingers stopped, suddenly overcome with the strangest feeling of déjà vu. Frowning, she slowly went backward through the pages, searching for the image she'd glanced at only briefly. Her fingers stopped as her eyes found the familiar face.

The girl. She knew that girl.

Rory stared unblinkingly at the photograph in the celebrity style spotlight section. God, even when photographed unknowingly, she looked beautiful. Her eyes found the red text box next to the picture. The name matched.

Rory tried to regulate her breathing. Out of all places for _her_ to be featured. She slammed the magazine shut, stuffing it back into her bag. The universe had a strange way of catching up with her.

 _It's real._ The words kept repeating in her mind. What she was doing with Logan was real. There was another girl out there, oblivious to what Rory was doing with her fiancé. The famous, beautiful girl with the kind smile. The second coming of Lindsey.

Rory thought that the Dean-Lindsey debacle was a low point. She'd had so many – was she at the bottom now?

God, she was going to be sick.

She felt disgusting. She eyed Logan's bathroom. Rory hadn't showered since returning to his home, but she felt a shower was too brief. The sizeable claw-foot tub peaked out from the doorway. The thought of submerging herself in deep, warm water drew her in. She walked briskly into the bath, turning on the taps before searching his cabinets for liquid soap. She found scented lavender soap stuffed in the back. Furiously ignoring why Logan would have such an item in his stash, she poured some in before stripping herself of her clothing. Climbing into the tub, she sunk her body to the bottom, lying on her back waiting for the water to overtake her.

The minutes passed and the water rose higher. Rory drew a deep breath as the water crept above her face. She sat up briefly, shivering as her hot skin cooled in the cold air. Rory then slid down again, resting her back on the bottom of the tub, holding her breath as she submerged herself in the warm water. She remained there as long as she could before the need for air became too much. She sat up quickly, gasping for air, wiping a tear as it fell down her cheek. Rory wished the bath could offer her salvation, to wash away all her sins of the past. But life didn't work that way.

Rory drew her legs up against her chest, rested her head against knees and stared at the tile floor. She didn't know how long she sat there. Her skin had wrinkled, and she had to refresh the bath with hot water once when it grew too cold. She heard sounds echo from down below, a door locking and cabinets open and closing. She didn't call out to Logan, to welcome him to his home despite the urge. The act was too domestic.

"Hello, you."

Logan leaned against the door jamb, his brow slightly sweaty and giving her a smile, though his eyes regarded her curiously.

She lifted her head. "Hi. Good run?"

"Decent. I picked us up some dinner too since I figured you'd probably want to stay in."

Rory smiled back. He was so thoughtful. It was amazing how easily his brilliant smile could brighten her day, no matter how horrible it had been. She pushed her earlier negative thoughts from her mind, moving them away from her sins and onto the present. She wasn't going to dwell. She wanted to feel happiness again.

"You didn't answer when I got in."

"Sorry, I just was lost in my thoughts. Too comfortable." Rory traced her finger above the surface, pushing bubbles around her. "Are you just going to stand there?" she asked after his stare had made her uneasy.

"Well," he began, nodding his head to the side. "I was going to clean up after my run, but my bathroom seems to be occupied."

"Huh, that does seem like a problem. What are you going to do about it, then?"

Logan walked into the room, stripping off his t-shirt. He cocked his head to the side, asking her silently for permission. She nodded and he threw the shirt off to the side, before working on his jogging pants. Rory scooted herself further to the front of the tub, allowing some space for him.

Rory didn't move from her position, her arms still around her knees as Logan carefully sat behind her, his legs moving around her hips. He first laid his hands over her own before his fingers traced her arms up to her shoulders. He then drew her closer against his chest, and he began to kiss her collarbone.

An odd warmth grew in her chest, moving outwards. Rory was content, peaceful. She had this feeling often when she was in his presence, perhaps that's why she was so drawn to him in the last year. It had been so long since she'd felt this happy, this cared for, this safe. Not since -

"I've missed this," she whispered involuntarily.

Logan's lips paused from where he was nibbling behind her ear, his fingers hesitating from where he stroked her shoulders. He was quiet at first. She could feel how still his body had become.

He moved his lips to her ear. "I'm always here, Rory." He kissed the crook of her neck, before wrapping his arms around her chest, forcing her to lie back against him.

Rory considered his words. Of course he was here now, but he wouldn't be forever. He had an entire successful life separate from hers, a future waiting for him. A life that she would never be a part of, she had made sure of that. There were too many bridges for them to cross, too many wounds not yet healed. One day he would leave her, he would have no choice, and Rory would be forced to deal with the heartbreak all over again. But could her heart carry the scar?

Rory didn't think it could.

Rory eyed the old childhood scar on her knee. At seven years old the injury seemed like the worst thing in her life. Oh, how wrong she was!

She had learned the hard way that not all wounds were superficial. Injuries to the heart and soul were much more painful, never truly healing. With age came wisdom, she supposed, and now she had learned: that the events in life that left the deepest scars were the scars no one would ever see.

* * *

 **AN:** *Waves* Hi, it's been a while. I'm sorry for the wait, especially with all the rewrites. I promise I had a good reason! Last fall, I had a bit of a tumble and hit my head. The recovery took a little longer than I expected. Good news is I'm all healed now.

Unfortunately, one of the casualties was that I lost a bit of my memory. I did take good notes for this story in the beginning, except they were a bit jumbled and incoherent. I think I remember everything I planned to do. However, this means I will not be working on my other stories at the same time. I just don't remember, simple as that. So if I ever disappear for what seems like a long time, do not fret, I'm just trying to pause and remember my plans for TFT before I hit publish.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! I would really appreciate a review, as a review is the only way for me to judge if people want more or if I am wasting my time with updates. They also give me immeasurable help for future installments. I hope to see you next time with Chapter 13: The Huntzberger Family Shanghai.


	13. The Huntzberger Family Shanghai

**AN:** Thanks for your reviews, follows, and favorites. Also thank you to RBraquel for once again deciphering my mess and hearing my ideas.

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

 **These Foolish Things**

 **Chapter 13: The Huntzberger Family Shanghai**

Connecticut – April 2005

"Know what you're havin', dearies?"

Logan jumped in his seat in surprise, his eyes drawing immediately to the woman next to the table and away from the boisterous group in the corner. Her greying hair was tied up in a bun, the fabric of her stiff polyester uniform swishing as she reached for a notepad. Her eyes flashed between Logan and his companion expectantly, her pen tapping against the paper.

Logan's eyes flicked down to the unopened menu in front of him. He thumbed through it quickly, hoping to find something that met his fancy. Truth be told he had lost his appetite; the excitement of the evening taking its toll. They'd arrived at the diner in silence, Logan growing more uncomfortable as his girlfriend looked everywhere but him. He finally couldn't watch her anymore, understanding that she wasn't going to comment on the events of the evening. His eyes eventually fell on the youth in the corner booth, while his mind searched for a way to bring up recent events.

"Yes, I do," Rory declared happily, laying her menu on the Formica tabletop, her enthusiasm surprising Logan. "I will have the 'Love Me Tender Cheeseburger,' the 'Rock N' Roller Onion Rings' and 'Higher Ground French Fries' – not the split order, the whole of both - and hmm, I don't know," she paused, tapping her chin. "I want both the 'Build Me Up Buttercup Milkshake' and the 'Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch Apple Pie.' Which do you recommend?" she asked, turning to the waitress named Darlene.

Darlene shrugged. "I prefer the pecan pie, myself."

"Hmm. This is a dilemma." Rory tapped her chin again. "You know, I'll have both. Milkshake with dinner, pie for after."

"Sure thing," Darlene replied, jotting down the order. "And what would you like?"

"Huh?" Logan shook himself from where he had been staring at Rory open-mouthed from across the table. Her order alone had him hoping he had some Tums back in his Porsche. He didn't know why he should be surprised; just yesterday, she had ordered an utterly bizarre and calorie-laden breakfast (which she admitted later was partly due to the hangover) that left the restaurant and waiter in shock.

"Oh, um, well," Logan faltered, his eyes once again returning to the themed menu. As was common in these types of kitschy, oldies-style venues, every option had an odd name, the true nature of the food only found within the description. "You know, I'll just have what she's having," he answered, closing the menu after he gave up trying to find a sandwich. "Just, uh, French fries instead of the onion rings and water instead of the milkshake."

"Oh, but you have to get a milkshake, Logan," said Rory, her blue eyes pleading. "It's all part of the charm."

"Oh, alright," he said, handing Darlene his menu. "I'll have a chocolate milkshake," shooting Rory a placating smile. "Oh, and some water for us too, please."

"One order of 'Higher Ground French Fries' and a 'Good Vibrations' milkshake, coming right up." Darlene went behind the counter, yelling their order to the cook through the window.

"Now, I get the name of the fries, but I'm a bit lost on the name for the chocolate milkshake."

"Caffeine and sugar rush," Rory replied smirking. "Hope you're ready."

"Oh, I'm always ready, Ace," he answered suggestively, Rory blushing slightly at the innuendo.

Logan spotted a stain on the table; a closer inspection found crusted food that must have been missed when the table was cleaned. Rory was insistent on their choice of venue tonight. Here they were, all dressed up (and Rory admittedly gorgeous), and instead of a nice meal like he had expected, they were sitting in a sticky diner booth surrounded by truckers. "Ace," he whispered, leaning over the table. "You sure you want to eat here? Honestly, we can go anywhere else. Go somewhere with a filet mignon instead of a beef patty, maybe. And after we can go see a movie or something."

"Logan, really, this is fine. I love these types of places!" she answered with a smile. "I think this is exactly what we need after the night we had. And look, they have the miniature jukeboxes on the tables!"

"Well, if you're sure," he muttered, sitting back as Darlene arrived with their waters.

Logan watched Rory as she took a sip from her glass before she turned to the old tabletop jukebox. She bit her lip as she flipped through the selections, her eyes searching for a song. He couldn't help but think how adorable and happy she looked, despite the earlier incident and the current scenery.

"Here, Ace," Logan said, reaching into his pocket, throwing some quarters onto the table. "Choose something good for us."

"I'm trying, I just don't know." She paused her search, frowning as she gazed above her at the speakers in the ceiling. "Someone's playing _The Temptations._ I have to find something just as good."

"Everyone likes _The Supremes_ ," he suggested.

Rory searched some more, her eyes widening as she laughed and inserted a quarter. "There, one of my mom's favorites, coming up." She sat back in the booth, seeming to look anywhere but him. She tapped her foot against the floor, matching the beat of the song above, while her lips mouthed the lyrics.

Logan searched for something to say to ease the palpable tension between them, but how could he possibly begin? The ride over to the restaurant was disturbingly quiet, the only real discussion happening while they decided where to go. He had known that the dinner had the potential to be disastrous, but he blindly believed Honor because the focus would be on her, or so he thought. His family would be so consumed with thoughts of a future wedding that they couldn't possibly move onto Logan's companion! He gave a soft, dark chuckle. He should have learned by now to never underestimate the Huntzbergers.

"Your milkshakes," announced Darlene, sliding the glasses on the table before leaving as quickly as she arrived.

"Yum," Rory whispered, reaching for the glass on the table. Her head still bopped along to the music as she took her first sip.

Logan should have trusted his gut. Rory was too good to take to the wolves tonight; she didn't deserve what they did to her. He didn't exactly come to her defense either during their rant, and he knew it. He hardly knew where to begin once his mother and grandfather started speaking. They had never done that to a girl he'd brought as a date before. They had made snide comments in passing, but nothing as deliberate as their words tonight. It was meant to hurt. Further surprise came from dragging his future into the discussion, a two-pronged attack, using more severe language than they ever had in front of company. It made him sick, to know that they would speak like that in front of his girlfriend. The gall of them. He didn't think there was anything he could say to Rory to apologize; words were not enough.

 _That's because no one has ever meant that much to you before,_ his subconscious tried to say, but he pushed the thoughts from his mind. Their relationship was still so new, it was too early to be feeling so strongly about the intelligent, blue-eyed beauty in front of him

"Rory, about the dinner," he began slowly, leaning over the table.

She held up her hand. "Logan, you don't have to say anything."

"But I do. That wasn't fair to you, it wasn't," he trailed off, trying to find a way to explain. "They were taking their anger at me out on you. It had nothing to do with you. Please understand," he pleaded.

Rory shrugged, looking less unruffled than he imagined. "Logan, I know a thing or two about being a disappointment to family members. I get it, I do," she said with a sigh. She smiled brightly, with a new burst of energy. "We're not going to dwell. We're going to continue to do what we have been doing. Have fun."

He frowned. Despite her smile, he couldn't help but think she was more affected than she let on. And why wouldn't she be? His family insinuated that she wasn't good enough for him, that her dreams were worthless, that she wasn't worthy to be his partner. It was absurd; she was a better student than him, more focused, and brilliant. It was apparent to everyone. He was a loser compared to her. He would be the winner of their hypothetical marriage, not her.

Logan stared at the table as he sipped his milkshake. There was another comment that disturbed him, the hint of a potential marriage. It was something that was always hinted at in the family, but Logan always saw it as an eventual necessity, not based on personal desire. When the time came, he would do his duty grudgingly, as expected.

He felt like slapping himself. His words to her as they left, suggesting that Rory would be the future Mrs. Huntzberger and that's why they were so upset – did he have to end it like that? Rory didn't think she was in this relationship for an eventual marriage, right?

Of course not. She'd even remarked that this was fun. It was still too early to think of marriage, a long-term future. Besides, Rory was the type of girl who would eventually want promises for the future, grand gestures, and love that lasted forever or some fairytale crap like that. That was decidedly not him, and she knew it. This was college, they had fun, and he liked being around her. She made him feel better about himself, and he couldn't deny that he wanted to see her happy. The time for serious things like that was for later, like in his thirties. Maybe forty if he could push it.

"I can't wait for the apple pie," Rory said, just as she finished a big slurp of her milkshake.

Logan chuckled and shook his head amusedly. He just couldn't help it. "Burgers first, remember?"

"Well, they need to hurry the heck up. A girl's gotta eat."

Oh yeah, this definitely beat an evening with his parents.

* * *

London – Mid-March 2016

Rory stared into her empty wine glass as she turned it over in her hand. She watched the remaining pale beige droplets in fascination, seeing how far she could turn the glass without losing any liquid. When she'd returned to Logan's that afternoon, she was restless, finally deciding on some wine to calm her busy mind. She'd grabbed an expensive bottle out of the cooler (not like he couldn't afford it, right?) before taking a place at his barstool. She had finished one glassful quickly enough, and she figured it was time for another. It wasn't like she had any plans for the evening.

She was halfway through the second glass when she heard the sound of his key in the lock. "Hey Ace, I'm back," Logan greeted loudly, before noticing Rory was in his kitchen. "Oh, you're here. How was the rest of your afternoon?" Logan asked, setting his briefcase next to the stairs. "Rory?" he asked again when she didn't reply, walking into the kitchen to stand next to the occupied barstool.

"Wine, Logan?" she whispered, not sparing him a glance.

"What?"

"An expensive bottle of wine," she continued with a sigh. Rory looked up at him, meeting his confused eyes with steel. "Your reasoning this afternoon. All for a bottle of wine," she reminded him, feeling dark satisfaction as he looked slightly sick.

"Rory, it was a joke."

"Ha, hilarious," she muttered, chugging the remaining bit of wine.

"It was a bad joke. I was trying to ease the tension after everything and I couldn't think of anything better. I regretted it as soon as I said it."

"You failed. You made me feel," she paused, unable to finish. Rory stood up, brushing past Logan as she walked to put her empty glass in the sink.

"Rory, I wasn't trying to embarrass you. God, I'm sorry," he said to her back. She continued to ignore him as she gathered the bottle, placing the stopper in the top. "I didn't think when I said it. We were near the restaurant when I picked you up, and I thought what the hell? I could go for some of their food. My family's share in the restaurant was no big deal."

Rory placed the bottle in his refrigerator. "Your father was there," she said to the closed doors, her hands not leaving the handle.

"He was," Logan answered flatly.

Rory turned her head, finally meeting his eyes. "Did you know?"

"Know he was going to be there?" She nodded. "Rory, the man barely tells me of his plans. Usually, he calls me on the way from the airport to tell me that he's stopping by the office," he said in exasperation. "Hey, it was fine, nothing happened," he added gently, walking closer to her.

Rory remembered the look Mitchum gave her as he shook hands with his friends. His knowing eyes had haunted her all day. She crossed her arms across her chest protectively. "Anyone could see us, know we were there together."

Logan's brows creased in confusion. "So? It's not like we haven't been out together before. I don't keep you locked in my home."

Rory broke Logan's gaze, staring at her feet. "People you know were there. People who know your family," she added, trying to hold back the fear in her voice.

"I don't give a damn what people think about you and me," he said harshly. Rory's breath caught as she met his eyes again, the seriousness in his expression alarming her.

Logan may not have cared, but she did.

"I have to get ready for tomorrow," she muttered as she walked past him, heading for the stairs.

"Rory –," he called to her back. She paused on the stairs for only a moment, waiting to hear his explanation. When nothing came, she continued on, leaving Logan alone with her biting dismissal in the kitchen.

* * *

London – June 2010

Logan studied his fingernails, trying to block out the stuffy music echoing through the hall. He had made plenty of introductions, thanked the well-wishers, and smiled at old friends, but now he was ready to leave. He wanted to go out in the city, perhaps hit up a pub for some late-night dinner (something at least more substantial than the bland finger foods), before collapsing in his hotel bed for a well-deserved rest. Tomorrow he would try to sneak out during a break, maybe visit a café and read a book. He had been gone years, but Logan always loved London. It had a different vibe than New York, and of course, most importantly: it was 3,000 miles away from the family compound.

Logan held back a yawn; he had still not fully adjusted to the time change. He had been in London only 36 hours, and in that time he was swamped with meetings between all different departments, phoning his father in-between to give first-hand accounts of the status of the company. Mitchum was appreciative, sure, if not a little antsy, and Logan was surprised at how well his father had taken to his mandatory rest. Even though he had worked for the company before, it shocked Logan just how much his father oversaw, how hands-on he was with his media empire. He supposed that the years of stress finally did take their toll on his father's heart, and now he deserved a much-needed break

Logan rolled his head, giving a sigh of satisfaction as he felt the joints crack in his neck. Not too much longer, he supposed. He had no idea that filling in for his father meant his required attendance at so many parties. No wonder Mitchum had so many tuxedos! But Logan preferred the late nights, the busy days, the constant traveling. It felt good to work hard again. It kept his mind occupied. And in the last year, he'd had more than enough time to be alone with only his thoughts to keep him company.

"Why hello," greeted a husky voice.

Logan turned to find a young woman at his side. "Er, hello."

"You're new," she stated, eyeing his figure appreciatively. "I would remember a face such as yours at one of our little shindigs."

"Well, I'm filling in for someone," he explained.

A waiter passed by, and the woman grabbed two flutes off the tray. "You looked thirsty," she said as she passed a flute to him. He muttered a small thanks. "Cheers," she said with a wink, watching him as he took a sip.

"So how long are you in London for?"

"Oh, um, for the next two weeks." Logan quickly looked at her, before turning his gaze to the crowd, determined to pass the time watching the partygoers. _Soon_ , he reminded himself. _He could go back to his hotel and warm bed soon._

"Mr. Huntzberger," greeted an older man. "I was so sorry to hear about your father. We wish him a full recovery." The man shook his hand with a smile. "Please tell him all of us at Meadowes and Phipps are keeping him in our thoughts."

Logan thanked the man, promising he would relay the message. The woman watched the exchange with wide eyes. "Huntzberger?" she questioned, looking at him in disbelief.

He shrugged. "Guilty," he said offhandedly, quite honestly surprised that she didn't know before now.

Her face morphed into a smirk. "Well isn't this just delicious? You know," she said, walking closer, "if you ever need anyone to show you around, you could always ring me."

Logan groaned internally. Great, another person who was more interested in the name. "Well, I have lived here before, but thanks for the offer," he replied, hoping to brush her off.

"Millie, what a surprise to see you here," came a new voice from behind him.

Millie's smile was strained in greeting. "Oh, hello."

"I see you've met my friend." Logan turned, taking his first glance at their new companion. Glancing surreptitiously around, Logan confirmed that the friend in question was himself, and he had to admit the strange woman's comment amused him.

"We were just chatting, weren't we?" Millie nodded to Logan, giving him a predatory smile.

"Er, yeah," Logan answered, glancing between the two women.

"I'm so glad you've kept him occupied while I was away. You know how boring these things can be."

Mille's face darkened. "Indeed."

"Have you been well?" asked the strange woman. It was apparent to Logan this was only common courtesy, as the women did not seem to be friends, and the unknown woman looked slightly bored as she stared at Millie awaiting an answer.

"Oh, same as always." Millie paused, glancing at Logan again with a frown. "I see you are doing quite well for yourself, Odie."

"Hmm, I'm sure you know how these things are." The strange woman grabbed the champagne flute out of Logan's hand, quickly downing the remaining liquid. She set the empty flute on the nearby table before she grasped Logan's elbow with a smile. "I apologize, but I've just been trying to find a time to dance all night. Darling, shall we?" she asked Logan without waiting for his answer, pulling him to the center floor. Surprised but intrigued, Logan followed along without question. This was the most entertainment he'd had all evening.

They joined together, Logan placing his hands at her sides. The woman didn't look at him. Instead, she watched the crowd gathered with a bored look. Logan used this time to study her. She was slightly tall, meeting his height with her heels. She wore a beautiful but expensive gown, one he was sure Honor would fawn over. She was beautiful and willowy in a classic sort of way, with dark brown hair and green eyes. He wondered why she was here alone, and why she'd pretended they were together.

"Nice to meet you?" he stated with amusement after studying her, curious over the night's turn of events. "Have to ask, how long have we been dating? I want to make sure we have our stories straight before we start telling people."

The woman rolled her eyes as she finally turned to face him. "Oh, you'd be thanking me profusely if you had spent any more time with her."

"You're quite certain of that, huh?"

"Millicent," she grumbled, "is an old school friend. She comes to her daddy's parties because she's looking to catch a moneyed man. You seemed to be tonight's target," she ended with a wink.

Logan looked back to where Millicent stood. She was watching them with a glare. "She did seem very determined."

"You may thank me later. I'll wait."

The woman (Odie, he reminded himself) broke his gaze, looking back among the crowd. She had a strange accent, one he couldn't pinpoint. It was as if it was a mixture, something common he knew from school friends who spent their childhoods moving around different countries. "Odie?" he asked, curious about the odd name.

Odie glared. "School nickname. I am sure you had one just as horrible."

"Logie was one, often used by my sister when I stole her doll."

"Stealing her dolls? How terrible. Your sister was too kind, Logie."

"Aw, come on. Don't you want to call me by my real name? I didn't steal your doll. If anything, I'm the victim. You stole me away from my evening."

"Oh, poor you," she replied flatly, Logan knowing full well that she didn't take him away from anything. She looked rather unaffected by his pleading. "No, I don't care to know. This is more fun, don't you think? Besides, it's only fair I know Logie when you only know me by Odie."

"If you insist."

They fell into a comfortable silence but still continued dancing, both seeming to escape the party with the other for company. After a couple more songs spent in silence, they eventually made their way back one of the numerous bars scattered around the room and ordered a drink. Both sipped their cocktails as they stood off to the side and Logan couldn't help notice that women (and men, he had to admit) passed by them without pausing. "Well, I guess this is my time to thank you. It seems people think we are together."

Odie shrugged. "It works."

"Still, it was nice of you to help little ole me," he joked.

"Oh please, you are not special. You see that man over there, the ginger?" She pointed, her head indicating a tall man in a well-fitting suit speaking with a group of men. Logan nodded. "He's a friend of the family. He's been rather annoying all night. I needed an escape. I saw you and thought, he'll do. If there's one thing I can see, it's another person looking for an escape."

Logan scratched his head. She reached for his arm, pulling his suit back to glance at his watch. She grumbled a muffled curse (in what Logan assumed was French) before she looked around the hall briefly in agitation. "I must be outside in five minutes." She finished off her drink quickly before she began to walk to the front hall.

"What, you're going to leave this awesome party?" Logan asked jokingly, following her.

"I have made alternate arrangements for the evening. I have played my part, stayed the required amount of time." She stopped and turned to face him. "Perhaps you try something similar," she suggested with a jab at his chest.

"Hey," he replied, slightly affronted. "Normally I do, but circumstances - well, I couldn't this time." He looked at her curiously. For an event such as this – why was her presence required? "Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" she fired back.

"Touché."

"Goodnight," she said with a wave before turning to leave. She stopped and shot him a teasing smirk over her shoulder. "Logie," she ended with a wink, an air of mystery in her wake.

"It was fun chatting with you!" Logan called out to her back, chuckling to himself over the night's turn of events.

* * *

London - Mid-March 2016

"So Colin is just thoroughly perturbed after this surgery. I suggested he let the experience mellow him out, not be as risky when he goes skiing now." Logan paused to take another bite. "Of course, he only thinks it means he won't be able to show off in front of other women like he used to," he ended jokingly.

Rory chuckled. Such typical male behavior. "He still hasn't found anyone? Still the everlasting bachelor?"

"I think his father's multiple marriages has put him off the whole institution."

Rory hummed in agreement, well aware of Colin's family's history. Not odd in the least, as she had met many friends over the years who felt the same.

Her thoughts returned to Naomi, as they often did lately, who several weeks ago after several martinis gave Rory the lengthy, detailed run-down of all her previous relationships. Naomi first started listing all of the men's faults, before in an almost odd moment of self-awareness, began to list off all of her own. Rory eventually had to guide her to a different topic when Naomi grew more agitated and somewhat weepy. It was clear the woman was lonely, that like many people, mistakes of the past would lead to many what-ifs when given a chance to ponder.

Perhaps she could latch onto that idea at an upcoming meeting. Naomi clearly wanted to talk, but if Rory could steer her, to focus on how her personal life intersected with her career aspirations, that could be illuminating. It would resonate with so many women who often wondered if they'd taken the best course. Rory knew already that she would. It was her nature to second guess her decisions. That's why she relied so heavily on her pro-con lists, to help eliminate that shred of self-doubt, to ensure that she made the right choices. However, that never meant she often didn't wonder in the back of her mind if she chose the right column. What if she went to Harvard, took that job offer, or said yes before she answered no? The possibilities were endless.

…But that was all before today's phone call, with Naomi's complete breakdown over the book. Rory pushed the food around her plate frowning. Maybe she had to think of alternatives. To be honest, Rory wasn't sure how much time she had left with the woman who was challenging to work with on the best of days.

"Ace?"

Rory looked up quickly, slightly apologetic to be so deep in her thoughts.

"Do you want dessert?"

"Oh, um, no," she answered, returning to her plate.

"No? A Gilmore turning down dessert?" Logan teased before his smile strained. "What's wrong?" he asked concerned.

She sighed in exhaustion. "Naomi. Her phone call today – I think she's going off the deep end."

"Hey, I know she's difficult, but you've got this." Logan cocked his head, looking at her thoughtfully. "I know you're still undecided, but this would be a great time to focus on those job interviews we discussed today. Get her out of your mind." His gaze became optimistic. "And remember, you have Conde Nast to look forward to, as well."

"If that ever happens," she muttered.

Logan reached across the table and he gently grasped Rory's hand that was next to her plate. "Listen," he said quietly. "I'm sure my father wasn't joking. He'd make a call for you."

Rory forced herself to hide her disgust. God, how awful that would be. The man that told her she didn't have it all those years ago, having to pull strings for her. "No thank you," she replied, quickly drawing her hand away and setting it on her lap.

Logan frowned at her movement, slowly returning his hand to his side of the table. Rory smiled brightly, hoping to hide her discomfort. "I'm sure it's just an oversight on their part," she replied, brushing off his offer.

Logan sat back in his chair, reaching for his wine glass and taking a long sip. Rory resisted the urge to scratch at her collar. The table had grown stuffier, and she tried to focus on anything but him. She picked at the tablecloth, pretending there was a spot that needn't be.

"Have you and Naomi discussed your next meeting?" Logan questioned stiffly after a pause.

"She said she'd give me a call."

"Well, just let me know when you're coming next so that I can make arrangements."

Right, arrangements. Code word for Odette. This was Rory's last night in London. It's why they were at their ceremonial last-night dinner at TheIvy after all. She wondered what his ritual would be after she left. Did he have the cleaning lady wash away the sins, to make it look like she was never there? Clearly, there had to be people that knew, that saw her there, that knew she was more than just an acquaintance. God, what if Odette knew about her? The thought filled her with a chill. Rory had a funny feeling that day in the club, that people recognized just who and what she was to Logan. Had they passed it on to their friends? Mitchum seemed to know something was up. The weasel could sniff out a story easily.

She started. Of course Mitchum knew. He knew from first glance that Logan's little white lie didn't hold water. He probably didn't know about the nature of his son's relationship with her these days, but he probably assumed (rightfully so) that they were more than acquaintances.

When he'd first arrived at the table, he acted in his genial, friendly sort of way, one that Rory was too familiar with. It's how the man drew people in, only to drop a bad news bombshell later. She wondered if Logan picked up on his father's behavior. He did seem slightly uncomfortable, but just to be caught having a meal with Rory and having his father bring up Odette. Plus, he knew that Rory had her problems with the man. But Logan didn't see the look Rory received after the man had left the table.

Oh god, the look. Rory laid awake the night following, Mitchum's dark eyes glaring at her from behind closed lids. She took the glare as a challenge, showing that yes, after all these years he still held the upper hand. Rory should have been confident enough that she could move on, to not give it a second thought. She was convinced the man had a deep dark side, and the knowing look meant nothing good could be on the horizon. But she had to keep the moment to herself. She couldn't involve Logan in whatever scheme seemed to be percolating within Mitchum; he had enough to worry about without worrying about his father, too.

 _I don't give a damn about what people think about you and me._

Rory watched Logan finish the remnants of his meal. Suddenly his comment from the other day was clear - that he wasn't only expressing concern over any possible future problems between them, but there was more to his story. More than just Finn's comments months ago in the New York City bar. The thought filled her with fear, a cold, dead weight settling in her stomach.

People knew. The only question was, how many?

* * *

New York City – September 2010

It was another boring event, another time with Logan going in his father's stead representing the Huntzberger company. Truth be told he was more annoyed his father had lied about the start time, as the speeches weren't to begin for another thirty minutes. Mitchum claimed that he was mistaken, but Logan, frustrated, hung up when his father shot off his typical, half-assed apologies. Now he was stuck here in the designated time to watch other people mingle – or in his case, drink the free booze and nibble on the hor d'oeuvres.

Having just escaped another painful conversation with casual business acquaintances of his father, Logan flicked through his phone, catching up on the box scores on ESPN from the west coast games. He looked around the hall, grimacing as he caught familiar faces.

A movement to the far left caught his eye. It was someone he recognized, though truthfully not one he would ignore if given a chance. He caught the uncomfortable posture, the pained looked behind a carefully placed expression as another person spoke. Sliding his phone into his pocket, he wandered over to the other side of the room, determined to join the familiar face before he lost his nerve.

As he grew closer to the pair, he realized the speaker was a Wall Street trader, boasting about a recent deal. Logan rolled his eyes. Apparently, the man was oblivious that his companion had no interest in banking.

"Darling, I'm sorry I'm late," he began, sliding an arm around the woman's waist and standing next to her side. "Hi, I don't believe we've met," he said, holding his hand out the man. "Logan Huntzberger."

The man's eyes bugged in surprise. "Huntzberger! You're a legend," he exclaimed, shaking Logan's hand with enthusiasm. "Zach Cooley. Yale, Class of '08."

"Ah, good. Another Yale man."

Zach fidgeted, shifting his feet as he gazed at the pair. "Well, it was great talking to you," he said mainly to the woman, "but I can see you are otherwise occupied. Have a good night." He walked briskly to another group, not sparing the pair another glance.

"Logie?" said the woman in annoyance, jabbing her elbow gently into Logan's stomach and removing herself from his side. She turned to him with an exasperated glare.

"Odie, how wonderful to see you again. Gotta tell you, was a bit shocked to see you here of all places. Didn't think I'd ever see you again. Like the dress," Logan teased, his smile widening as she rolled her eyes.

She crossed her arms. "Logie, was that necessary?"

"What? It's like you said before, you can tell if someone is looking for an escape. And as you looked like you were walking to the guillotine, I thought I'd offer my services. Like you did for me before," he said with a slight bow of his head. "Plus, I know from experience that you have about as much patience for these things as I do."

Her shoulders fell slightly as she looked off to the side. "Well, that is true."

"Listen, we have about 25 minutes until the speeches start. This room is insufferable. You want to go outside?" Logan asked, his thumb pointing to the open doors behind him. "I was going to go by myself anyway, but it would be nice to have company."

She sighed, looking around the room, pondering her answer. "Lead the way," she answered, taking Logan's offered arm.

"You attended Yale?" she asked, once they had made their way outside the hall and into the open air.

"Yes, you have a problem with that?" he joked, slightly distracted as the lights played upon her dress in the night.

"It is an acceptable school."

"Acceptable?" he responded, flabbergasted but amused. "It's one of the best schools out there! And definitely better than Harvard. Don't let people tell you differently."

She smirked and crooked her head. "Sorry, I must say Cambridge is better."

Logan whistled. "You were holding out on me. I knew you were smart, but wow. Nice Odie."

"Please don't call me that," she muttered, glancing at her feet.

"I wouldn't, but you've never told me your name. You thought it was more fun to use our atrocious nicknames." He bumped her shoulder slightly with his own. "You now know mine is Logan."

"Huntzberger, yes I know." She caught his eye, giving him a strange and unnerving look. "It's Odette."

"Ah, Odette," Logan repeated, liking the way the uncommon name rolled off his tongue. "So are you French then?" He paused, waiting for a response. She stared straight ahead, her mouth in a tight frown. "It's just you have a very distinct accent, and I know you've spoken French so," he added quickly, looking at her for an answer.

"From when I was 12, I completed my schooling in England. I stayed for university. But yes, I am French, through and through."

"Interesting." Her accent explained, he wondered over the other unknowns. "So why are you here? Long way to travel."

"I have been in town for personal reasons. My family had other arrangements, so they asked me to attend on their behalf."

Logan nodded. "Isn't it always like that though? I'm the same. In town, forced to come on my parents' behalf."

"It's alright, I fly back to Paris tomorrow."

"Paris, huh?"

"It's where I work. It is home." Odette paused, looking at him thoughtfully. "And you?"

"London, here, sometimes Connecticut, wherever they need me to be. I rack up a lot of frequent flier miles," he quipped.

"Well, you must take advantage when you can. "

They spent the next minutes talking, easily sharing stories, managing to make it inside just as the speeches started. He had to admit, he enjoyed spending the time with someone who found these events just as bogus as he did. She would quietly mock the people, and he the same, both trying to stifle their laughter. The time passed quickly, it was nearing time to depart, and Logan realized that he hadn't had this much fun with another woman in ages.

"Logan! My dear boy," exclaimed a familiar voice.

Logan cursed as he faced the Campbells, close friends of his parents from the Vineyard. "Mr. and Mrs. Campbell, hello."

"How is your father doing?" John Campbell asked sympathetically, shaking his hand.

"He's doing much better, thank you," Logan answered politely. "He's gained his strength back, and he's itching to come back to the office as soon as possible."

"Oh, we know how it can be," Mrs. Campbell added, as Logan reached out to shake her hand and offer a quiet hello. "He's always been one for work."

"That he has, but now his doctors want him to relax more, which my mother reads as more time at the Vineyard, so they're not complaining. I dare say he's even enjoying the reprieve, though he'd never admit it."

"But how good of you to step up. I know it means a lot to them," said John proudly.

Logan shrugged. "I do what I can."

"Oh how rude of me, I see that you were busy," said John apologetically as he looked to the woman standing near Logan. "Ms. DeSaulnières, it's been some time. We haven't seen your parents in, goodness, two years?" he questioned, before looking to his wife for confirmation. "But nonetheless understandable. I'm glad to see you again and that you're doing well. And how are your parents?" he asked with concern to Odette.

"My parents are well, thank you. Content to stay home for now."

"I see that you are acquainted with our young Mr. Huntzberger here," he added with a grin.

Odette hesitated, meeting Logan's eyes. "Yes, well I –"

"Logan, how long have you been hiding that you two know each other?" Mrs. Campbell queried.

"Gosh, you know," Logan shrugged, looking again to Odette to gauge her reaction. She looked as wide-eyed as him, though did he detect a trace of fear?

Mrs. Campbell looked between the two, her Cheshire-cat grin deepening at their obvious discomfort. "Well, isn't this just lovely. Come on John," she said, laying a hand on her husband's arm. "Let's leave them to it."

Logan's heart slowed as the couple departed. Letting out a sigh, he turned to the woman at his side. Odette was fidgeting, playing with the latch of her clutch, determinedly not sparing him a look. He watched her curiously, noting how she obviously pretended to look for something within her bag to pass the time.

"Odette DeSaulnières."

She met his eyes. "Yes."

"DeSaulnières, as in–,"

"Don't make it a thing," she replied shortly, closing her clutch and beginning to walk away from him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Logan asked to her back, following her as she moved near the bar at the back of the hall. "Christ, that's – "

"Oh, quiet, Huntzberger," she interrupted, fixing him with a glare. "It's not like you were forthcoming about your background either. Does it matter? We both lied."

"You're right. And I'm guessing for similar reasons," he replied understandingly.

She gave a weary sigh, her eyes sad. "It's easier if people don't know. It's just so tiring. All the questions, all the superficial comments."

"Listen, you don't have to pretend with me. I get it. If there's one thing I can empathize over with someone fully, it's this," he explained, smiling softly and touching her elbow comfortingly. "How nice of our parents to leave us with this curse of the name, huh?"

Odette gave a dark chuckle, relaxing under his touch.

"Oh fuck, my parents," he cursed in a mutter. Mrs. Campbell probably supposed they had been an item in secret, finally caught in the act. How thrilled she would be to break the news to her friends, that she had caught Logan, the elusive man a bachelor no more.

"What is it?"

"Those people, I guarantee you by tomorrow my mother and her friends will have heard about us here together. I will never hear the end of this."

"Are you their prized stud?" she teased, hiding her discomfort.

"Somewhat. Oh, this will be a nightmare," he stopped, catching her face. "Oh, no! Don't think it's because of you. Just that, you know how parents can be. I'm sorry you will have to be dragged into my mess."

She stepped back, pretending to study his form. "At least you're tolerable," she said jokingly, tapping her chin and angling her brow.

"Gee thanks," he replied sarcastically, his stress disappearing. Her reaction settled his fears, making him more at ease with the turn of events. "On the other hand," he began, smiling as she looked at him oddly.

"Why do I not like that look?"

"I was thinking - It's always nice just to be friends with someone who understands. Who is on the same page." He paused, looking out among the crowd. "Who sees beyond the façade so many seem to have here."

"Seems a bit advantageous, does it not?"

* * *

New York City – Late March 2016

"Thank god we can have a movie night again," Carolina exclaimed as brought the popcorn and two small bowls to the couch where Rory was seated. "I'm so glad you're back. It's quite annoying with you in London all the time."

Rory muttered a thank you as she was handed the snack bowl. "Well, I guess London has its perks," she replied with a grin, pouring the snack into her bowl. "Makes the visits bearable."

Carolina scoffed amusedly. "No kidding." She reached over to grab her wine glass off the coffee table, before settling back against the cushions. "Just saying, if I wasn't busy with work or with someone, I would be seeing the sights, shopping." She paused, bringing the wineglass up to her lips, giving Rory a sly, sideways glance. "Hanging out with as many sexy Brits as possible."

"It's work. It isn't like that at all."

"Hey, leave me to my fantasies, alright?"

Carolina grabbed the Roku remote, starting the movie she had chosen for the evening. Rory took a few bites of popcorn, wishing she had picked up some licorice along the way. Rory loved movie nights, but when she didn't spend them with her mother, they felt different, incomplete. Rory wasn't in the mood to venture back to Connecticut this time around, so she called her friends, asking if they were willing to take her in. "Thanks again for letting me stay on such short notice," Rory said over the credits, appreciative to her friend for opening her home to her and giving her a chance to just hang out.

Carolina shrugged. "Oh please, it's no big deal. You know I told you the door's open. I love it. It's like being in college again. I never get to do this." She quieted as the fighter jets on the screen crescendoed, waiting for a lull in the noise. "Plus, you're like one of my only friends who enjoys cheesy '80s movies."

"I mean, this movie is great though. Can't beat Tom Cruise in his prime!"

The two fell silent, content to watch the movie. Rory fidgeted. There was a reason she had called Carolina first, hoping that she had the room. One topic had lingered on her mind, and if there was one person who had the knowledge she was searching for and was ignorant enough of Rory's past and present, it was her friend Carolina. "Hey, Caro, I have a weird question for you," Rory asked hesitantly.

"Hmm," she acknowledged.

"I know you know fashion – I mean you have to working for InStyle - but how much do you know about the people? Power players, the who's who in the fashion world."

"A fair bit, I hear things around the office. Feels like I work at TMZ sometimes," she ended with a laugh.

"Do you know someone named Odette DeSaulnières?"

Carolina stopped chewing, giving Rory a strange look. "Yes," she answered slowly.

"So?" she egged on, frustrated.

Carolina shook her head. "I'm sorry, I'm just really confused why you would know her name. She's not, well, someone who I think would be on your radar."

"She came up when I was researching one of my articles. Wild tangent, I know. But fashion got involved and then, you know," Rory fibbed, hoping her answer would placate her friend.

Carolina nodded, convinced. "Oh, well I wonder how best to describe her," Caro paused, grabbing a few more bites of popcorn as her gaze turned thoughtful. "So she comes from a family like the Hiltons, yeah? Huge company, socialite parents. The children are also famous socialites. Well, take that fame and combine that with the, hmm, I don't know. Think Kardashians, maybe."

"What?" Rory replied confused. A Kardashian comparison is not what she was expecting when speaking of Logan and his family's wishes.

"Well, just think, it helps if you're famous if you want to get involved in the fashion world, right? Like the Kardashians. It's kind of what they did."

"Okay, I guess I get it." Rory sat back, a bit deflated.

"So this Odette modeled a bit on Paris runways when she was young, just because she could and you know, she's also gorgeous. Now she kind of flits from fashion house to fashion house. The name gives her the edge. Rumor is she wants to start her own big line. She probably can, too. She's got everything she needs."

Rory glanced at her pants, picking the lint off, hoping to hide her discomfort. "What's stopping her, then?"

"The Hilton factor." Rory looked up quickly in confusion, meeting her friend's eyes. "A powerful, rich family, three children, first a boy and then two girls. The family gets involved, right? Passed on to the children?" she explained.

"I'm following."

"Her brother, like many sons in these families, was set to take over, leaving her and her sisters to their own lives. However, her brother was notorious in his own right, as those socialites tend to be. Died in a boating accident with some others along the Riviera when he was partying with some other well-known European socialite kids. Sketchy circumstances, drugs and alcohol involved. Was a huge deal when it happened. All over the European tabloids." Carolina ended her story with a sad look. "So she's next in line. Apparently, the family isn't big on the whole fashion, choose-your-own destiny sort of thing."

"Wow, that's gotta be tough," Rory responded sadly, suddenly overcome with the knowledge of the other woman in Logan's life.

Her friend shrugged as she returned to her snack. "You know, for that amount of money, I would do about anything. It's not like they're hurting. And you know the family business and all, at least you have a foot in, right? So much better than starting off with nothing. No student loans."

But Rory knew from experience that type of money could come with strings, expectations that people weren't prepared for, with responsibilities they didn't want. Privilege could be incredible, but like the friends she met at Chilton and Yale, it didn't always mean happiness.

"Wouldn't you just absolutely die if someone did that to you?" Carolina asked with a laugh, as Tom Cruise belted out "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling" to the crowded bar. "No scratch it. If a man belted out his love for me in a crowded bar, I'd be a goner. That takes balls. The feminist in me is screaming at the gall, but I can't help it. Maybe it's a Tom Cruise thing. I just can't resist the smirk."

"The smirk can be a powerful thing," Rory reasoned.

"I wish I knew a man like that."

"You know, I think Finn would do it if you asked him nicely," Rory said slyly, recalling Finn's propensity for pranks and ridiculousness if only for the pure enjoyment of the reactions of people around him.

"Oh Rory, I was facetious. Nothing like that happens in real life."

"Yeah, you're right," Rory replied softly. But it had happened to her.

Rory remembered that one day in lecture when Logan, Finn, and Colin burst through the doors of the hall. She was so angry to be put on the spot like that, in front of all her classmates. She remembered how she just couldn't wait to see him again to give him a piece of her mind. He could get her so worked up with his teasing eyes and smirk. It wasn't until Marty pointed out to her later that the whole point was to stake his claim. Like a little boy pulling a girl's pigtails. Immature to be sure, but Finn was right. She unknowingly had his balls. She and Loganher were just too scared to confess their feelings, choosing to hide between their jokes and jabs. But eventually, they found common ground, creating a relationship that still lasted, however tenuous, to this day.

Rory tried to force her thoughts away from Logan. She didn't want to ponder about what he could be doing now back in London, knowing that she wouldn't like the outcome. But his happy expression as she pranced around his living room, the pride he showed when he discussed her upcoming interviews, played on repeat in her memories. One thing was still clear to Rory after all this time, the one thing that she had tried so hard to forget -

She was still a goner when it came to Logan Huntzberger.

* * *

 **AN:** Well, well, well. If you got this far, thanks for reading. See you next time for Chapter 14: Photograph

Please review if you can! I appreciate it so much. Nothing makes me want to write more than when I see a new notification!


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